Tuesday, April 1, 08
Everyone is up before day break. Pauline and Samia have horrid coughs which will keep Pauline home from school. Roosters are sending their message of the new day. Sam is starting a fire in the house center. To shower or not to shower - quite cool. Maybe, simply more deodorant.
The family is pulling out all the stops. Breakfast is coffee, boiled kau kau (sweet potato), and a fried carrot, egg, noodle, green onion mix and bread. Before placing the pot on the open fire, Sam smears it with wet ashes to keep the outside from becoming dented from continual use. Pauline and Samia play a stone game - somewhat like jacks.
Silion (13) presents Sam with papers indicating he needs to pay 20 kina for his education. I reach into my pocket and pass it to him. Thank you is expressed. Cooked kau kau are wrapped in plastic for lunches.
Eric (Sam's nephew, age 21), Aru (bodyguard) and Babu (word meaning grandfather) will accompany me on a walk. Lynette and Silion hustle off to school. Oldest daughter, Doreen, has returned from school and will remain in the village. School isn't for everyone. Sitting over breakfast, a man describes how he, last night, shot (with an arrow) a flying fox which had stopped to eat in his guava tree. He says it squealed like a dog and woke the family.
Off the four of us go, all but I have a bush knife. Aru has a bow and arrows. This 2 1/2 hour walk will take us to a vista where Yonki Lake can be viewed. Through grassland, forest and bamboo we walk as Birds of Paradise float overhead - they fly more rapidly than I imagined. We pass women working together in gardens and couples cutting grass to repair a roof. Bubu and Aru share home grown tobacco and later betel nuts. Stories of fights with neighboring clans come out of Bubu recalling his youth - which could easily start anytime. These fights can last for a week as they jockey into position, 1/8 mile between them on the grassy hillsides, where they shoot arrows at each other. Some arrows are for close range, others for distance. Bubu's son is working in his garden at the furthest point of our walk. He walks to the edge of the small flat hilltop and calls loudly. Far away the call is returned. the soil is so slick, we all slip at times on the steep slopes. Aru always has his bow and arrows at the ready, his bush knife slung down his back and around his head. As a king fisher flies past he hurries a shot. No king fisher soup tonight, plus a lost arrow.
My shoes were traded in for too small boots. By the time I'm back at the village, I'm glad to rejoin my own sized shoes. With a short rest, bananas and water, Brian (Sam's 18 yr old son), returned from classes, Eric, Bubu and I take a walk around the village.
Lunch follows and we the younger generation and I walk back to the SIL compound.
My guesthouse stay tonight will feel a bit tame.
Anamonapa and walk pictures: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/AnamonapaPNG
Monday, March 31, 2008
Ukarumpa/Village Life
Monday, March 31, 08
Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, there is a market. The choices of vegetables and fruits, I have not seen till now - cucumbers, lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, all fruits, and more. This area, the Aiyura Valley, used to be a big swamp. When the missionary arrived, he drained the swamp and the fertile soil has grown anything planted. Hostilities can possibly be understood when realizing that the question asked, when someone came to a village or a garden was, "What reason do I have not to kill you?"
One of the important needs, since leaving home, has been to see a doctor somewhere along the way. Dr. Jeff Stout sat with me and we discussed my feeling lightheaded. We will have three BP checks, and cut my meds in half and see if that helps. I'm grateful to have a trustworthy physician to work with and purchase reliable meds.
At 4:30. Sam
Baimako and I drive to his village using one of the SIL vehicles. The village, Anamonapa, is 15 minutes drive from the compound. Welcomes and helloes all around, I meet the family: Mama (Simo), Lynette (20), Silion (13), Pauline (10), Samia (3). There are others who are either away in school or not present. Martha Simpson has packed me a bag with mosquito net, sleeping bag, foam pad, and other important items. Traditional houses are round and made of bamboo. Sam's is square made of bamboo. A fire burns in the center with sleeping quarters along the sides and b
ack. Some children are playing jingo jango outside. This consists of two strings held while others jump in and out of the strings keeping to the rules. There is water piped close to the house and two fluorescent bulbs burn inside, one outside. The bamboo walls are woven and have two layers, one on the outside and the other on the inside of the pole framing. Above the fire are seeds drying for next year's crop. These are kept in bamboo. A pit toilet serves the household. Eleven of us are present for dinner. Sam's mother is here working on a bilum (carrying net) and Aru (cousin). Rain sounds outside, not heard under the grass roof, and we settle down to talking of any and all subjects. I am pleased to see a cat prowling the premises.
All the women are in skirts. Women must cover from the midriff to the knees. To allow a thing of belly to be shown is a sign of promiscuity - not tolerated in the village.
By 9:00, the family is tired and we retire. We are 5 sleeping here. The others disappear to sleep elsewhere. Samia and Pauline have deep coughs and are instructed to spit outside. I sleep on the right, Sam next to me, Mama next, then the girls.
Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, there is a market. The choices of vegetables and fruits, I have not seen till now - cucumbers, lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, all fruits, and more. This area, the Aiyura Valley, used to be a big swamp. When the missionary arrived, he drained the swamp and the fertile soil has grown anything planted. Hostilities can possibly be understood when realizing that the question asked, when someone came to a village or a garden was, "What reason do I have not to kill you?"
One of the important needs, since leaving home, has been to see a doctor somewhere along the way. Dr. Jeff Stout sat with me and we discussed my feeling lightheaded. We will have three BP checks, and cut my meds in half and see if that helps. I'm grateful to have a trustworthy physician to work with and purchase reliable meds.
At 4:30. Sam
Baimako and I drive to his village using one of the SIL vehicles. The village, Anamonapa, is 15 minutes drive from the compound. Welcomes and helloes all around, I meet the family: Mama (Simo), Lynette (20), Silion (13), Pauline (10), Samia (3). There are others who are either away in school or not present. Martha Simpson has packed me a bag with mosquito net, sleeping bag, foam pad, and other important items. Traditional houses are round and made of bamboo. Sam's is square made of bamboo. A fire burns in the center with sleeping quarters along the sides and b
ack. Some children are playing jingo jango outside. This consists of two strings held while others jump in and out of the strings keeping to the rules. There is water piped close to the house and two fluorescent bulbs burn inside, one outside. The bamboo walls are woven and have two layers, one on the outside and the other on the inside of the pole framing. Above the fire are seeds drying for next year's crop. These are kept in bamboo. A pit toilet serves the household. Eleven of us are present for dinner. Sam's mother is here working on a bilum (carrying net) and Aru (cousin). Rain sounds outside, not heard under the grass roof, and we settle down to talking of any and all subjects. I am pleased to see a cat prowling the premises.All the women are in skirts. Women must cover from the midriff to the knees. To allow a thing of belly to be shown is a sign of promiscuity - not tolerated in the village.
By 9:00, the family is tired and we retire. We are 5 sleeping here. The others disappear to sleep elsewhere. Samia and Pauline have deep coughs and are instructed to spit outside. I sleep on the right, Sam next to me, Mama next, then the girls.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Ukarumpa, SIL Compound, PNG
Sunday, March 30, 08
Up early, I take a walk to the top of the hill and around. This place is large enough to get lost. Services will be from 10:30-12:00. I have plenty of time to roam. This is not a jungle as I experienced in Papua. That is partly because of a higher population density and also because this area was grassland. There are a tremendous number of clans in close proximity which creates an atmosphere of conflict. Bush knives come out at the slightest provocation, as in Papua. Further, toward Papua, the terrain becomes more rugged and the jungle does increase as the population drops dramatically.
Service follows much the same format as Evangelical Fundamentalist services in the US. SIL is non-denominational. One striking sight is all the young children 0-10. A large elementary and high school services various missions with boarding facilities. The schools have around 350 enrollment. On site are many young families, most in translation of highland languages into the Bible. It takes between 10 to 30 years to translate one language with there being 850 languages in PNG. Few have a completed Bible.
Staff can either rent or buy a house. Electricity is constant with either power from the Yonki Dam or an on site generator. Water is split into rain water, which is for drinking and otherwise used as available. Also, grey water is from a source in a stream very nearby. This stream is the problem source with locals who want to be more highly compensated. The Simpson house has a total capacity of 35oo gallons stored from rain water, plus grey water. Roads are gravel, well drained, and well maintained. A high chain link fence with razor wire surrounds the property with armed guards on internal and outer patrol. On site are a Joinery, Auto Shop, Aviation, Store, Clinic, Construction, Finance, Schools, Industrial, Maintenance. Library, Languages and Linguistic Center and Translation Support, Print Shop, and lots more.
Lunch is mid-afternoon following a 15 minute drive to Sam's village. Sam is a PNG local who works at the compound in a department which works with conflict resolution between SIL and locals. He is near 50, I would judge. Without the 4X4 working we get stuck in the mud holes. There is great excitement, high point of the day, as we are pushed out by helpful hands. Sam's house is a mat house with sleeping platforms along 3 sides and a constant fire burning slowly in the center. Bill and he discuss an episode from last Friday which landed an SIL local worker in serious danger. He was beaten and slashed on the head with a bush knife. The SIL vehicle, he was driving, had all its windows and lights broken out. He will most likely be fire since the vehicle usage was unauthorized and he was attempting to gather others to join him in intimidating an adjacent clan. Warfare is never far from the surface. The three of us drive into Kainantu while a horrendous rain drenches the compound. Nothing on Kainantu 15 km away.
Dinner and computer time finish the afternoon. A card game had been scheduled but Bill and I are too tired. At a mile high, I am feeling tired early and will find my comfortable bed.
SIL compound pictures: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/SILCompoundPNG
Up early, I take a walk to the top of the hill and around. This place is large enough to get lost. Services will be from 10:30-12:00. I have plenty of time to roam. This is not a jungle as I experienced in Papua. That is partly because of a higher population density and also because this area was grassland. There are a tremendous number of clans in close proximity which creates an atmosphere of conflict. Bush knives come out at the slightest provocation, as in Papua. Further, toward Papua, the terrain becomes more rugged and the jungle does increase as the population drops dramatically.
Service follows much the same format as Evangelical Fundamentalist services in the US. SIL is non-denominational. One striking sight is all the young children 0-10. A large elementary and high school services various missions with boarding facilities. The schools have around 350 enrollment. On site are many young families, most in translation of highland languages into the Bible. It takes between 10 to 30 years to translate one language with there being 850 languages in PNG. Few have a completed Bible.
Staff can either rent or buy a house. Electricity is constant with either power from the Yonki Dam or an on site generator. Water is split into rain water, which is for drinking and otherwise used as available. Also, grey water is from a source in a stream very nearby. This stream is the problem source with locals who want to be more highly compensated. The Simpson house has a total capacity of 35oo gallons stored from rain water, plus grey water. Roads are gravel, well drained, and well maintained. A high chain link fence with razor wire surrounds the property with armed guards on internal and outer patrol. On site are a Joinery, Auto Shop, Aviation, Store, Clinic, Construction, Finance, Schools, Industrial, Maintenance. Library, Languages and Linguistic Center and Translation Support, Print Shop, and lots more.
Lunch is mid-afternoon following a 15 minute drive to Sam's village. Sam is a PNG local who works at the compound in a department which works with conflict resolution between SIL and locals. He is near 50, I would judge. Without the 4X4 working we get stuck in the mud holes. There is great excitement, high point of the day, as we are pushed out by helpful hands. Sam's house is a mat house with sleeping platforms along 3 sides and a constant fire burning slowly in the center. Bill and he discuss an episode from last Friday which landed an SIL local worker in serious danger. He was beaten and slashed on the head with a bush knife. The SIL vehicle, he was driving, had all its windows and lights broken out. He will most likely be fire since the vehicle usage was unauthorized and he was attempting to gather others to join him in intimidating an adjacent clan. Warfare is never far from the surface. The three of us drive into Kainantu while a horrendous rain drenches the compound. Nothing on Kainantu 15 km away.
Dinner and computer time finish the afternoon. A card game had been scheduled but Bill and I are too tired. At a mile high, I am feeling tired early and will find my comfortable bed.
SIL compound pictures: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/SILCompoundPNG
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Lae to Ukarumpa, PNG
Saturday, March 29, 08
Up at 6:30, we leave at 7:00 to begin the loading process. We will keep collecting till our tires tell us to stop or we hit bottom - 1000 kg. Besides the cargo, we are carrying suitcases left by yesterdays four women and some for the Howard family. One of the stops, Morobe Produce, we collect onions and talk to Barry Feldon, an Aussie in his 70s, who was kidnapped last week and held for 6 days. During the ransom transfer, the local swat team descended on the rascals (name given to lawless element) killing two, capturing one and one escaped. Barry is still very shaken. Bill has been held up once on his Lae-Ukarumpa route. It took place near the compound by a fellow with a knife and a gun. Otherwise, NO WORRIES!
What takes time is that nothing is ready, even though the order was in days ago. Only when we arrive is the order assembled. At no place are ordered complete. Only a portion is available.
Pidgin is the language. Although, English is spoken by many (British colony) Pidgin is English PNGized. PNG men often walk with their shirt on their head. This way, arriving at their destination, it isn't sweated through.
We drive through coastal landscape, then the Markham Valley and climb into the highlands. The road is ready to slide away as we climb to our 5000 ft. Past Yonki Lake, which supplies electrical power, and coffee plantations. PNG coffee locally sells for $1.00/lb. We arrive in Kainantu, at around 1:30, and gas up. We are 10 minutes from Ukarumpa.
In the double gate and fence, we pull up at the Simpson house. there to greet us are Martha, Paige (7) and Emma (2). The rest of the day is spent with unloading the van, checking at the SIL Guesthouse, and dinner at The Simpson's. Sanctuary, a sing along is attended from 6:30-8:00. Bill and I are tired and take turns snoozing in the back. The elevation brings with it a coolness which will make sleeping easy. Rain is making it even easier.
New pictures: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/Lae
Up at 6:30, we leave at 7:00 to begin the loading process. We will keep collecting till our tires tell us to stop or we hit bottom - 1000 kg. Besides the cargo, we are carrying suitcases left by yesterdays four women and some for the Howard family. One of the stops, Morobe Produce, we collect onions and talk to Barry Feldon, an Aussie in his 70s, who was kidnapped last week and held for 6 days. During the ransom transfer, the local swat team descended on the rascals (name given to lawless element) killing two, capturing one and one escaped. Barry is still very shaken. Bill has been held up once on his Lae-Ukarumpa route. It took place near the compound by a fellow with a knife and a gun. Otherwise, NO WORRIES!
What takes time is that nothing is ready, even though the order was in days ago. Only when we arrive is the order assembled. At no place are ordered complete. Only a portion is available.
Pidgin is the language. Although, English is spoken by many (British colony) Pidgin is English PNGized. PNG men often walk with their shirt on their head. This way, arriving at their destination, it isn't sweated through.
We drive through coastal landscape, then the Markham Valley and climb into the highlands. The road is ready to slide away as we climb to our 5000 ft. Past Yonki Lake, which supplies electrical power, and coffee plantations. PNG coffee locally sells for $1.00/lb. We arrive in Kainantu, at around 1:30, and gas up. We are 10 minutes from Ukarumpa.
In the double gate and fence, we pull up at the Simpson house. there to greet us are Martha, Paige (7) and Emma (2). The rest of the day is spent with unloading the van, checking at the SIL Guesthouse, and dinner at The Simpson's. Sanctuary, a sing along is attended from 6:30-8:00. Bill and I are tired and take turns snoozing in the back. The elevation brings with it a coolness which will make sleeping easy. Rain is making it even easier.
New pictures: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/Lae
Lae, Papua New Guinea
Friday, March 28, 08
Information - Papua, where I spent a month, is on the west side of the island of New Guinea and is part of Indonesia. This is Papua New Guinea, the eastern side of the island, separated by an arbitrarily drawn line. PNG was colonized by the British. Papua was colonized by the Dutch.
Bill and I start the day by transporting the four women to a spot where PMV (Public Motorized Vehicle), 13 passenger mini-buses, are waiting to leave. Effort is placed in locating one which looks reasonably reliable, when Nigel spots us. Nigel works in Ukarumpa SIL, and hurries the women to a waiting van which will safely transport them the distance. Having completed that, we head to the open market buying peanuts, a watermelon, a papaya, soft drinks, passion fruit, tangerines and a spiny red fruit which is peeled exposing a white interior. It looks like an eye ball to me. Next is the Rabtrad where Bill has earlier left an order to be filled. This type of order has been placed in 4 spots where the orders will be packaged for us.
An internet site is found for a swift update since I haven't been able to add much. Lunch is at he Yacht Club - Yacht Club how about that. Then another surprise - a store where appliances and most things Western can be purchased, at a price. Martha, Bill's wife had called earlier in the day that their microwave has stopped working. Again, a surprise. Microwave! A coffee at the back of the store in a small coffee shop and on to check on more products for tomorrow's pickup. Since only a small portion of what is wanted is available, it takes time to check and recheck. Bill comments that he has come up with a new phrase, "We have most everything you need and a few things you want."
Bill is gone on an errand so I take a swim with the Howard children. They love to stand on my shoulders, have me hold their ankles and jump in. Katie (9) and Samuel (5) take turns.
Dinner is Chinese food, shop talk and life experiences.
Information - Papua, where I spent a month, is on the west side of the island of New Guinea and is part of Indonesia. This is Papua New Guinea, the eastern side of the island, separated by an arbitrarily drawn line. PNG was colonized by the British. Papua was colonized by the Dutch.
Bill and I start the day by transporting the four women to a spot where PMV (Public Motorized Vehicle), 13 passenger mini-buses, are waiting to leave. Effort is placed in locating one which looks reasonably reliable, when Nigel spots us. Nigel works in Ukarumpa SIL, and hurries the women to a waiting van which will safely transport them the distance. Having completed that, we head to the open market buying peanuts, a watermelon, a papaya, soft drinks, passion fruit, tangerines and a spiny red fruit which is peeled exposing a white interior. It looks like an eye ball to me. Next is the Rabtrad where Bill has earlier left an order to be filled. This type of order has been placed in 4 spots where the orders will be packaged for us.
An internet site is found for a swift update since I haven't been able to add much. Lunch is at he Yacht Club - Yacht Club how about that. Then another surprise - a store where appliances and most things Western can be purchased, at a price. Martha, Bill's wife had called earlier in the day that their microwave has stopped working. Again, a surprise. Microwave! A coffee at the back of the store in a small coffee shop and on to check on more products for tomorrow's pickup. Since only a small portion of what is wanted is available, it takes time to check and recheck. Bill comments that he has come up with a new phrase, "We have most everything you need and a few things you want."
Bill is gone on an errand so I take a swim with the Howard children. They love to stand on my shoulders, have me hold their ankles and jump in. Katie (9) and Samuel (5) take turns.
Dinner is Chinese food, shop talk and life experiences.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Cairns - Port Moresby - Lae
Thursday, March 27, 08
My first leg, Cairns to Port Moresby, is on AirPNG, a prop plane. The view of the Great Barrier Reef extends in all directions. Unable to find a half day trip to the Reef, I was content to spend the time in Cairns.
Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, has lots of WWII importance but is a small, mostly non-descript spot. I laugh inside as I walk into the domestic terminal and see that there is no seating. The New Guineans are sitting on the floor. I have a few hours to give so I take a walk around the airport lobby, again, and again. In the gate area, I wait for the plane, 1 1/2 hours late - normal.
Arriving in Lae, Bill Simpson greets me and directs me to the baggage claim which I have walked past - a metal table near an opening facing the tarmac. Riding into Lae, we give a ride to a family from close to Ukarumpa, where we will drive to on Saturday, and stop to drop off an order at a farm where later we will hopefully pick up some butter, cream cheese, and other dairy products. Bill is in town to shop for items which will stock the SIL store in Ukarumpa - 4 hours drive into the highlands. Arriving at the SIL (Summer Institute of Linguistics), also known as Wycliffe, guesthouse we check into a spacious 2 room flat (1 twin, 1 double, 1 bunk) designed for families. The rest of the day is occupied with a swim in the pool, an attempt at finding an internet connection, meeting the family which manages the guesthouse (four lovely children age 3-9), and dinner at the Melanesian Hotel, an upscale facility where most businessmen stay. Present for dinner are Bill, four women who have just returned from vacation near Rabaul, and me. I order broiled reef fish, rice and veggies. Bill, Esther, one of the women, and I share a lime cake and ice cream for dessert.
My first leg, Cairns to Port Moresby, is on AirPNG, a prop plane. The view of the Great Barrier Reef extends in all directions. Unable to find a half day trip to the Reef, I was content to spend the time in Cairns.
Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, has lots of WWII importance but is a small, mostly non-descript spot. I laugh inside as I walk into the domestic terminal and see that there is no seating. The New Guineans are sitting on the floor. I have a few hours to give so I take a walk around the airport lobby, again, and again. In the gate area, I wait for the plane, 1 1/2 hours late - normal.
Arriving in Lae, Bill Simpson greets me and directs me to the baggage claim which I have walked past - a metal table near an opening facing the tarmac. Riding into Lae, we give a ride to a family from close to Ukarumpa, where we will drive to on Saturday, and stop to drop off an order at a farm where later we will hopefully pick up some butter, cream cheese, and other dairy products. Bill is in town to shop for items which will stock the SIL store in Ukarumpa - 4 hours drive into the highlands. Arriving at the SIL (Summer Institute of Linguistics), also known as Wycliffe, guesthouse we check into a spacious 2 room flat (1 twin, 1 double, 1 bunk) designed for families. The rest of the day is occupied with a swim in the pool, an attempt at finding an internet connection, meeting the family which manages the guesthouse (four lovely children age 3-9), and dinner at the Melanesian Hotel, an upscale facility where most businessmen stay. Present for dinner are Bill, four women who have just returned from vacation near Rabaul, and me. I order broiled reef fish, rice and veggies. Bill, Esther, one of the women, and I share a lime cake and ice cream for dessert.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Cairns, Australia
Wednesday, March 26, 08
Darwin is the first airport I've flown through which allows those remaining to accompany the traveller to the gate. It has been a delightful excursion into being taken care of, as Timika was. In Indonesia, as in Sabah, I was living in a fairly constant wary attitude. - not quite knowing where or how. Customs are so different. But here, I have relaxed and allowed the flow of energy into other than surveillance attitude.
Some Aussie words:
Bonnet - hood of the car
Boot - trunk
Woolies - Woolworth store
Arriving in Cairns airport I find the bus into town and sit across from a 22 year old Brit named Chris Watson. We decide to hang around together during the afternoon and evening. I ask, "Watson, as in Dr. Watson?" "Yes" he replies, "And that's as close to being a doctor as I'll get." We laugh. The afternoon is spent walking the Esplanade (street along the beach), internet searching, and lunching on fish and chips. Cains is mostly tourism. Their push to take you to the Great Barrier Reef for snorkeling and diving, is constant with tour agents everywhere. Here, I am on the Coral Sea.
We spend the afternoon walking the wharf and beach area with dinner at a pub on a second floor three blocks off the water. It's an early evening, 9:30, as I turn the key and enter the dorm room finding a French girl (Marseille) adjusting some luggage. This room is co-ed, as all of them are here. She, two guys from Germany, a young woman and man from Holland, and I are sleeping this 4 bunk bed room - first co-ed I've encountered. Lights out, the others drag in at varying times. The bathroom door doesn't lock and sticks with several inches of vision into the shower. Close enough! The young Dutch couple enters , she strips at her bed, puts on a night shirt and is in bed. I pretend to be asleep. Life on the road! Tomorrow, Port Moresby connecting into Lae, Papua New Guinea.
Darwin is the first airport I've flown through which allows those remaining to accompany the traveller to the gate. It has been a delightful excursion into being taken care of, as Timika was. In Indonesia, as in Sabah, I was living in a fairly constant wary attitude. - not quite knowing where or how. Customs are so different. But here, I have relaxed and allowed the flow of energy into other than surveillance attitude.
Some Aussie words:
Bonnet - hood of the car
Boot - trunk
Woolies - Woolworth store
Arriving in Cairns airport I find the bus into town and sit across from a 22 year old Brit named Chris Watson. We decide to hang around together during the afternoon and evening. I ask, "Watson, as in Dr. Watson?" "Yes" he replies, "And that's as close to being a doctor as I'll get." We laugh. The afternoon is spent walking the Esplanade (street along the beach), internet searching, and lunching on fish and chips. Cains is mostly tourism. Their push to take you to the Great Barrier Reef for snorkeling and diving, is constant with tour agents everywhere. Here, I am on the Coral Sea.
We spend the afternoon walking the wharf and beach area with dinner at a pub on a second floor three blocks off the water. It's an early evening, 9:30, as I turn the key and enter the dorm room finding a French girl (Marseille) adjusting some luggage. This room is co-ed, as all of them are here. She, two guys from Germany, a young woman and man from Holland, and I are sleeping this 4 bunk bed room - first co-ed I've encountered. Lights out, the others drag in at varying times. The bathroom door doesn't lock and sticks with several inches of vision into the shower. Close enough! The young Dutch couple enters , she strips at her bed, puts on a night shirt and is in bed. I pretend to be asleep. Life on the road! Tomorrow, Port Moresby connecting into Lae, Papua New Guinea.
Darwin, Australia
Tuesday, March 25, 08
This morning has been an attempt to update my blog. Two days are on, two to go. Pat picks me up at 10:30 for a tourist?s visit of Darwin. First is a stop at Charles Darwin University where we look in on Tim, a professor who works closely with the local Aboriginal people. After a latte and talk we continue. This is a city which has been destroyed several times-WWII and again Cyclone Tracy in 1974. Darwin Harbor is a large, well-protected, deep-water bay. A storm is approaching, west to east across the bay. The steam rises from the pavement as we enter East Point Reserve. Lake Alexander, a man made lake, ½ for swimming and ½ for canoeing is to our right, Arafura Sea to our left. This is the same Arafura Sea, from the other side of the pond, that I saw in Timika, Papua. The rain sweeps closer from Madorah. Box jelly fish prevent much swimming during the rainy season, which is drawing to a close. Dry season will cool the residents. We stop at Dudley Point where the large 9.5?gun emplacements, along with the magazines and radar lookouts were in place too late for the defense of Darwin during WWII. Ironically, after the war, the guns were dismantled and sold as scrap metal to the Japanese. Peace dove, commonly called Kamikaze dove because they don?t fly till the vehicle is on them, seem to have a special car attraction this day. At the Museum and Art Gallery, we lunch on sweet potato soup, a chicken salad roll, and lemon tea. The Museum has lots of Aboriginal art and history, with a special section devoted to Cyclone Tracy. There is also a stuffed crocodile, Sweetheart, which was harassing boaters. It died while being captured. It was 300 years old, 780 kg (1716 pounds), 17 ft long, and has a girth of 2.3 m (5 ft). Cyclone Tracy hit Darwin Christmas Eve 1974 with an estimated wind speed of 200 miles/hr. The wind indicator at the airport broke. It leveled the city. Building codes are now strictly enforced. On to Larrakeyah Point where the colors of the Sea change, depending on the weather. There is an Army base here which is on the Sea. The Naval base is 11 km inland. Go figure! Cullen Bay looks and smells of money. This is close to downtown Darwin. Many of the homes have their own docks and the marina is here. On goes the tour till around 4:45. Darwin does not have a big city look. Most of the homes are separated from each other with trees and open areas still undeveloped. There is a rain forest which separates some of the suburbs and the Sea and Bays are pristine. There are some common expressions. ?No worries!? is one of the main replies given when a request isn't possible. Mate, bloke are terms of endearment. When passing, you most often receive a greeting and you are looked in the eye. That is, unless you are Aboriginal. For the Aborigines, it is considered impolite to look another person in the eye unless you are an acquaintance. To ask, ?How are you?? is rude to an Aboriginal unless you have spent time talking about the weather, and gradually working toward this personal question. Tonight, Pat is taking me to meet some friends for tea at the wharf. Tomorrow, I leave early for Cairns (pronounced CANS).
This morning has been an attempt to update my blog. Two days are on, two to go. Pat picks me up at 10:30 for a tourist?s visit of Darwin. First is a stop at Charles Darwin University where we look in on Tim, a professor who works closely with the local Aboriginal people. After a latte and talk we continue. This is a city which has been destroyed several times-WWII and again Cyclone Tracy in 1974. Darwin Harbor is a large, well-protected, deep-water bay. A storm is approaching, west to east across the bay. The steam rises from the pavement as we enter East Point Reserve. Lake Alexander, a man made lake, ½ for swimming and ½ for canoeing is to our right, Arafura Sea to our left. This is the same Arafura Sea, from the other side of the pond, that I saw in Timika, Papua. The rain sweeps closer from Madorah. Box jelly fish prevent much swimming during the rainy season, which is drawing to a close. Dry season will cool the residents. We stop at Dudley Point where the large 9.5?gun emplacements, along with the magazines and radar lookouts were in place too late for the defense of Darwin during WWII. Ironically, after the war, the guns were dismantled and sold as scrap metal to the Japanese. Peace dove, commonly called Kamikaze dove because they don?t fly till the vehicle is on them, seem to have a special car attraction this day. At the Museum and Art Gallery, we lunch on sweet potato soup, a chicken salad roll, and lemon tea. The Museum has lots of Aboriginal art and history, with a special section devoted to Cyclone Tracy. There is also a stuffed crocodile, Sweetheart, which was harassing boaters. It died while being captured. It was 300 years old, 780 kg (1716 pounds), 17 ft long, and has a girth of 2.3 m (5 ft). Cyclone Tracy hit Darwin Christmas Eve 1974 with an estimated wind speed of 200 miles/hr. The wind indicator at the airport broke. It leveled the city. Building codes are now strictly enforced. On to Larrakeyah Point where the colors of the Sea change, depending on the weather. There is an Army base here which is on the Sea. The Naval base is 11 km inland. Go figure! Cullen Bay looks and smells of money. This is close to downtown Darwin. Many of the homes have their own docks and the marina is here. On goes the tour till around 4:45. Darwin does not have a big city look. Most of the homes are separated from each other with trees and open areas still undeveloped. There is a rain forest which separates some of the suburbs and the Sea and Bays are pristine. There are some common expressions. ?No worries!? is one of the main replies given when a request isn't possible. Mate, bloke are terms of endearment. When passing, you most often receive a greeting and you are looked in the eye. That is, unless you are Aboriginal. For the Aborigines, it is considered impolite to look another person in the eye unless you are an acquaintance. To ask, ?How are you?? is rude to an Aboriginal unless you have spent time talking about the weather, and gradually working toward this personal question. Tonight, Pat is taking me to meet some friends for tea at the wharf. Tomorrow, I leave early for Cairns (pronounced CANS).
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Litchfield National Park
Monday, March 24, 08Again, leaving early, we head to and through Jabiru, a small, very small, gold mining town in the park. (Blink and you'll miss the petrol station which is the town) There is no way out of the park except thr
ough this out of the way town, unless we backtrack. Over the South Alligator River and Wildman River, we turn south along the Stewart Highway at the town of Humpty Do (I had to get that name in there). In the town of Batchelor we have a bite of lunch and continue into the park. Here are Magnetic Anthills,and others
, which are built high into the sky. We stop in at three of the four waterfalls in the park - Florence, Tolmer and Wangi. The rainfall has brought a crashing amount of water over the cliffs. On our return to Darwin, Pat suddenly turns left and we enter the yard of a couple of her friends. Dinner is pizza and drinks with a return to my lodging quite late. A 
whirlwind of a tour.
Kakadu National Park
Sunday, March 23, 08
Picked up at 7:15, I am chauffeured into Kakadu National Park. First is a stop in Pine Creek to ring the park and find if the road is passable. We had hoped to drive to Daly River Aboriginal Settlement, but that road is under water. The main road is open but many of the side roads are closed for the next month, or more, and have been for months. Any communities behind those closures are cut off. After 30 minutes, we stop for an ice cream at the Mary River Roadhouse, also known as Wirrwirnmila. On up past names like Bukbukluk, Gerowie Creek, Gungurul, Barr
amundie Gorge (Maguk), Jim Jim Billabong, Alligator Billabong, Mardugal, up to where we find rooms for the night at Gagudju Cooinda Lodge, near the Yellow Water. With that detail secured, we continue on to Nourlangie Rock. Pat stays at the car while I hike the 1 1/2 km, stopping repeated at the rock painting till arriving at a lookout. Returning, I again visit each painting site and on to the parking lot. 
This escarpment belonged to an indigenous tribe which has vanished. For at least 20,000 years those people visited this escarpment and rock shelter during the rainy, hot season. The shelters, or camp sites, are under rock overhangs which are markedly cooler. All through this region are the rock paintings and depictions of Aboriginal stories. With the tribe gone, the neighboring tribes have taken over the management of these sacred grounds.
Returning to Gagudji Cooinda Lodge, I walk to Jim Jim Creek where I participate in a 2 hour cruise of the wetlands. We see a crocodile, Whistling Kites, Sea Eagles, Lorrakeets, Rainbow Bee Eaters, Honey Eaters, Whistling ducks, Kukaburra, Jabiru (large storks), Corellas, Sulfur Crested Cockatoos, Snake Neck Darters, and others. On a side-the Aborigines believe that upon death the Sea Eagle swoops down and gathers the departed taking his spirit into the stars. There is spear grass, which looks like its name. It is also known as "Knock 'em Down" grass since it dries in the summer time, turning brown. With the first rain, it is knocked flat onto the ground where the seeds sprout during the next wet season. It is also known for housing homeless persons who use it as beds.
Dinner is a salad, potato wedges, and an orange juice. With lightning flashing we bid each other good night. I sleep with the shades open to see the flashes. These storms can be massive dumping 10 inches or more very rapidly.
Picked up at 7:15, I am chauffeured into Kakadu National Park. First is a stop in Pine Creek to ring the park and find if the road is passable. We had hoped to drive to Daly River Aboriginal Settlement, but that road is under water. The main road is open but many of the side roads are closed for the next month, or more, and have been for months. Any communities behind those closures are cut off. After 30 minutes, we stop for an ice cream at the Mary River Roadhouse, also known as Wirrwirnmila. On up past names like Bukbukluk, Gerowie Creek, Gungurul, Barr
amundie Gorge (Maguk), Jim Jim Billabong, Alligator Billabong, Mardugal, up to where we find rooms for the night at Gagudju Cooinda Lodge, near the Yellow Water. With that detail secured, we continue on to Nourlangie Rock. Pat stays at the car while I hike the 1 1/2 km, stopping repeated at the rock painting till arriving at a lookout. Returning, I again visit each painting site and on to the parking lot. 
This escarpment belonged to an indigenous tribe which has vanished. For at least 20,000 years those people visited this escarpment and rock shelter during the rainy, hot season. The shelters, or camp sites, are under rock overhangs which are markedly cooler. All through this region are the rock paintings and depictions of Aboriginal stories. With the tribe gone, the neighboring tribes have taken over the management of these sacred grounds.Returning to Gagudji Cooinda Lodge, I walk to Jim Jim Creek where I participate in a 2 hour cruise of the wetlands. We see a crocodile, Whistling Kites, Sea Eagles, Lorrakeets, Rainbow Bee Eaters, Honey Eaters, Whistling ducks, Kukaburra, Jabiru (large storks), Corellas, Sulfur Crested Cockatoos, Snake Neck Darters, and others. On a side-the Aborigines believe that upon death the Sea Eagle swoops down and gathers the departed taking his spirit into the stars. There is spear grass, which looks like its name. It is also known as "Knock 'em Down" grass since it dries in the summer time, turning brown. With the first rain, it is knocked flat onto the ground where the seeds sprout during the next wet season. It is also known for housing homeless persons who use it as beds.
Dinner is a salad, potato wedges, and an orange juice. With lightning flashing we bid each other good night. I sleep with the shades open to see the flashes. These storms can be massive dumping 10 inches or more very rapidly.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Nitmiluk Gorge
Saturday, March 22, 08
Waking at 6:45, Pat picks me up and transports me for the Nitmiluk Gorge Tour. I am fortunate that this is Easter weekend. Pat has off through Tuesday-chauffeuring me around. Pat stays at the visitor center while I am one of 60 lucky people on a boat which leaves 9:00, traveling through 2 of the 13 gorges comprising Nitmiluk Gorge. Each gorge is separated from the other by a rock barrier-rapids. These gorges are believed to be 1.6 million years old of sandstone layers. The second gorge is a specifically sacred area for the Jawoyn people, Aborigines, who "own" the gorge. This area, their ancestral land, is theirs but leased back to the park system. The Jawoyn people use the sub-gorges, areas which allow access to the river through cleavages in the sandstone cliffs, for initiation rites, for washing, to drink of the water and then leave. They do not allow anything to be taken out or disturbed - that also applies to us. Not a stone, leaf, or any such thing. To break this will bring the wrath of the god and the monsoonal rains will ravage the area. Birds are everywhere. The Birrirt, fruit bat or flying fox, are thickly hanging in their favorite trees. Sulfur crested cockatoo land in trees next to where I am sitting. There are 5 distinct seasons for the Aboriginal people. These are distinguished by rain fall, flowering plants, etc. Nitmiluk means "The Place of Cicadas".
Returning to Katherine, we see a water level indicator at a bridge. The rains are in contrast to the neighboring state of Queensland which has been under drought conditions for the past several years and water is rationed.
Lunch is a sandwich and tea.
At 3:00, I start my shift at the St John Ambulance station. Unbelievably, there is no call till around 9:00. Andrew Langston, Matt Parce, and I head toward Mataranka where we will meet another ambulance half way. 48 km out we pull over for the transfer of a man experiencing a heart attack. Along the way we squish several cane toads on the road. These toads were brought into Queensland to eradicate the beetle infestation. They did not like the beetles but have spread out creating havoc everywhere. They are presently here in Darwin. Poisonous to all, even crocodiles die if they eat them. There is no known predator. However, presently, crows have learned to flip them on their backs and make a meal of these pests. As we turn for the hospital, we receive another call from Mataranka asking us to return, after this transport, to pick up a baby burned on 25% of its body. I decide to be dropped off at my cabin and not take the 3 hour round trip. It is 10:30. Matt and Andrew both believe the baby will most likely not make the trip alive. Tragic! I don't want to either listen to the pains of a baby or watch him die. Everything here in the Outback is casual. No uniforms, except the EMTs. The nurse transporting the first patient arrived in a Toyota land cruiser and is wearing a spaghetti top with a short jean skirt. At the hospital, the doctor has on a polo shirt and blue jeans. The three nurses are in regular street clothes. In the hall is a room, no door, where all types of supplies are kept. Life is casual, laid back and personal.
Waking at 6:45, Pat picks me up and transports me for the Nitmiluk Gorge Tour. I am fortunate that this is Easter weekend. Pat has off through Tuesday-chauffeuring me around. Pat stays at the visitor center while I am one of 60 lucky people on a boat which leaves 9:00, traveling through 2 of the 13 gorges comprising Nitmiluk Gorge. Each gorge is separated from the other by a rock barrier-rapids. These gorges are believed to be 1.6 million years old of sandstone layers. The second gorge is a specifically sacred area for the Jawoyn people, Aborigines, who "own" the gorge. This area, their ancestral land, is theirs but leased back to the park system. The Jawoyn people use the sub-gorges, areas which allow access to the river through cleavages in the sandstone cliffs, for initiation rites, for washing, to drink of the water and then leave. They do not allow anything to be taken out or disturbed - that also applies to us. Not a stone, leaf, or any such thing. To break this will bring the wrath of the god and the monsoonal rains will ravage the area. Birds are everywhere. The Birrirt, fruit bat or flying fox, are thickly hanging in their favorite trees. Sulfur crested cockatoo land in trees next to where I am sitting. There are 5 distinct seasons for the Aboriginal people. These are distinguished by rain fall, flowering plants, etc. Nitmiluk means "The Place of Cicadas".
Returning to Katherine, we see a water level indicator at a bridge. The rains are in contrast to the neighboring state of Queensland which has been under drought conditions for the past several years and water is rationed.
Lunch is a sandwich and tea.
At 3:00, I start my shift at the St John Ambulance station. Unbelievably, there is no call till around 9:00. Andrew Langston, Matt Parce, and I head toward Mataranka where we will meet another ambulance half way. 48 km out we pull over for the transfer of a man experiencing a heart attack. Along the way we squish several cane toads on the road. These toads were brought into Queensland to eradicate the beetle infestation. They did not like the beetles but have spread out creating havoc everywhere. They are presently here in Darwin. Poisonous to all, even crocodiles die if they eat them. There is no known predator. However, presently, crows have learned to flip them on their backs and make a meal of these pests. As we turn for the hospital, we receive another call from Mataranka asking us to return, after this transport, to pick up a baby burned on 25% of its body. I decide to be dropped off at my cabin and not take the 3 hour round trip. It is 10:30. Matt and Andrew both believe the baby will most likely not make the trip alive. Tragic! I don't want to either listen to the pains of a baby or watch him die. Everything here in the Outback is casual. No uniforms, except the EMTs. The nurse transporting the first patient arrived in a Toyota land cruiser and is wearing a spaghetti top with a short jean skirt. At the hospital, the doctor has on a polo shirt and blue jeans. The three nurses are in regular street clothes. In the hall is a room, no door, where all types of supplies are kept. Life is casual, laid back and personal.
Katherine, NT, Australia
Friday, March 21, 08
Darwin is in the Northern Territory (NT)-a territory and not a state since the population is too small. This known as the Outback. Pat King, I know Pat from my connection to the listserve MKNET, meets me at the airport and we hurry to her place where I shower and have a bread with jelly. On we go heading to Katherine which is several hundred km south along the Stewart Highway. If this highway is followed for 1450 km we would arrive in Alice Springs. From there it continues south many more km to Adelaide on the south end of Australia. Along the way are dead wallabies and other road kill. Cell phone reception cuts off a few km out of Darwin. There will be none till Katherine, and then only in town. In Adelaide River we stop to walk the war cemetery of civilians and military (mainly airmen) personnel killed during the defence of Darwin during WWII. Along the highway are dirt airstrips which were used by fighter planes to intercept the Japanese zeroes and bombers. This is the point where the invasion of Australia was to come. Each airstrip is 5000 ft long X 100ft wide. They were built by the US Army Corps of Engineers. In Adelaide River Pub is the stuffed remains of the buffalo in Crocodile Dundee. This is the area in which that movie was filmed. On to Pine Creek, still no phone coverage, and a look at the old gold mines. These spots are literally sometimes only a pub, or a service station. In Katherine, it being Good Friday, nothing is open except the Kumbidgee Lodge and Tea Rooms. And of course, some lodgings. We park at the St. John Ambulance station and walk in looking for Trevor. Instead, we find Matt and Andrew (my two oldest sons are Matt and Andrew). Matt offers to take me on an ambulance run tomorrow late afternoon. Otherwise, we are invited to tea at 6:00 at the Kumbidgee Lodge where the ambulance group will have dinner and drinks. Drinks! Oh, let's talk about alcohol. There is limited alcohol allowed in Katherine, only certain hours on the weekend and several hours on Wednesday. The effort is to cut the alcoholic consumption of the Aboriginal people. There are large fines if alcohol is transported into the Aboriginal lands. Much of NT is Aboriginal homelands. Accommodations are cabins at Knotts Crossing Resort. To the north stretches the immense Kakadu National Park.
Taking a drive along the Katherine River there is evidence of flooding. This region receives rains 4 months of the year with 40 inches during that period. At times, there is a rise of the river which can flood the town. Climbing the other side of the bank, having crossed the low level bridge, is the Springvale Homestead with buildings built in the middle 1800s. A homestead is the living quarters of a land farm which could encompass thousands of acres. These large farms were called stations. The whole area has blue, white, and red eucalyptus. Don't ask me the difference. The river is spanned by two bridges which are referred to as the low and high levels. High level is 18 meters (app. 60 ft) above the low level bridge and will at times flood several meters above that high level. The volume of water can change dramatically and quickly.
The evening is spent getting to know, in an informal manner over fish and chips, the local ambulance group at the Kumbidgee Lodge. Here, in the Outback, these are often the only link to real health care for Katherine and the outlying communities. At 8:00, the group heads home leaving me to an early night. With only 2 hours of sleep last night, and a nap of 1 1/2 hours this afternoon, my pillow will be welcomed.
Darwin is in the Northern Territory (NT)-a territory and not a state since the population is too small. This known as the Outback. Pat King, I know Pat from my connection to the listserve MKNET, meets me at the airport and we hurry to her place where I shower and have a bread with jelly. On we go heading to Katherine which is several hundred km south along the Stewart Highway. If this highway is followed for 1450 km we would arrive in Alice Springs. From there it continues south many more km to Adelaide on the south end of Australia. Along the way are dead wallabies and other road kill. Cell phone reception cuts off a few km out of Darwin. There will be none till Katherine, and then only in town. In Adelaide River we stop to walk the war cemetery of civilians and military (mainly airmen) personnel killed during the defence of Darwin during WWII. Along the highway are dirt airstrips which were used by fighter planes to intercept the Japanese zeroes and bombers. This is the point where the invasion of Australia was to come. Each airstrip is 5000 ft long X 100ft wide. They were built by the US Army Corps of Engineers. In Adelaide River Pub is the stuffed remains of the buffalo in Crocodile Dundee. This is the area in which that movie was filmed. On to Pine Creek, still no phone coverage, and a look at the old gold mines. These spots are literally sometimes only a pub, or a service station. In Katherine, it being Good Friday, nothing is open except the Kumbidgee Lodge and Tea Rooms. And of course, some lodgings. We park at the St. John Ambulance station and walk in looking for Trevor. Instead, we find Matt and Andrew (my two oldest sons are Matt and Andrew). Matt offers to take me on an ambulance run tomorrow late afternoon. Otherwise, we are invited to tea at 6:00 at the Kumbidgee Lodge where the ambulance group will have dinner and drinks. Drinks! Oh, let's talk about alcohol. There is limited alcohol allowed in Katherine, only certain hours on the weekend and several hours on Wednesday. The effort is to cut the alcoholic consumption of the Aboriginal people. There are large fines if alcohol is transported into the Aboriginal lands. Much of NT is Aboriginal homelands. Accommodations are cabins at Knotts Crossing Resort. To the north stretches the immense Kakadu National Park.
Taking a drive along the Katherine River there is evidence of flooding. This region receives rains 4 months of the year with 40 inches during that period. At times, there is a rise of the river which can flood the town. Climbing the other side of the bank, having crossed the low level bridge, is the Springvale Homestead with buildings built in the middle 1800s. A homestead is the living quarters of a land farm which could encompass thousands of acres. These large farms were called stations. The whole area has blue, white, and red eucalyptus. Don't ask me the difference. The river is spanned by two bridges which are referred to as the low and high levels. High level is 18 meters (app. 60 ft) above the low level bridge and will at times flood several meters above that high level. The volume of water can change dramatically and quickly.
The evening is spent getting to know, in an informal manner over fish and chips, the local ambulance group at the Kumbidgee Lodge. Here, in the Outback, these are often the only link to real health care for Katherine and the outlying communities. At 8:00, the group heads home leaving me to an early night. With only 2 hours of sleep last night, and a nap of 1 1/2 hours this afternoon, my pillow will be welcomed.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Bali, on to Australia
Leaving Timika, I fly into Denpasar, the airport city in Bali. We arrive in driving/pounding rain. Funny the Indonesians haven't figured out how to keep us dry while deplaning. Pampered people like to be pampered. Most of those wandering in and out of the airport are Australian, followed quickly by Orientals. The third largest group are Europeans. With 11 hours till my connection into Darwin, I eat, have coffee, sit and watch arrivals, and strike up a conversation with a man who supplies drills to mining companies.
The flight is short, 2 1/2 hours, and we arrive in Darwin, having left during the night, at 5:30 am. I meet up with some Aussie friends and am taken to their home for a freshening up. Around 8:30, we will head to Katherine for the next several days. With this being Easter weekend, holidays are in progress till eary next week. There are other Aussie's we will be connecting with in Katherine. When I left home, I never thought I would have the opportunity to see Australia. But, here I am! More from Katherine, Kakadu and Litchfield National Parks. If the road isn't flooded, we will attempt to also get to Daly River Aboriginal Settlement.
The flight is short, 2 1/2 hours, and we arrive in Darwin, having left during the night, at 5:30 am. I meet up with some Aussie friends and am taken to their home for a freshening up. Around 8:30, we will head to Katherine for the next several days. With this being Easter weekend, holidays are in progress till eary next week. There are other Aussie's we will be connecting with in Katherine. When I left home, I never thought I would have the opportunity to see Australia. But, here I am! More from Katherine, Kakadu and Litchfield National Parks. If the road isn't flooded, we will attempt to also get to Daly River Aboriginal Settlement.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Freeport/International School/Plants
Wednesday, March 19, 08
This morning, after Diana leaves for work and the boys are picked up for school, Iain and I bicycle to the shopping center/office buildings which are around 1 1/2 kilometers away. Retrieving my documents from the police and visiting the travel agent for my tickets (Timika-Bali-Darwin), we return stopping briefly for a look-in at the International School which is halfway home. With some time, I have posted some general pictures of interest.
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/FreeportInternationalSchoolPlants
This morning, after Diana leaves for work and the boys are picked up for school, Iain and I bicycle to the shopping center/office buildings which are around 1 1/2 kilometers away. Retrieving my documents from the police and visiting the travel agent for my tickets (Timika-Bali-Darwin), we return stopping briefly for a look-in at the International School which is halfway home. With some time, I have posted some general pictures of interest.
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/FreeportInternationalSchoolPlants
Monday, March 17, 2008
Long House and Totem
Tuesday, March 18, 08
Yesterday, while at the Freeport office working with my police requirements, Iain and I talked with Kalman who informs us that there is a long house built and totem erected 30 minutes from Timika, among the Kamoro people. With our interests piqued, Iain, the three boys, and I leave to find the village. After asking twice for d
irections, we arrive at the site and step into a fascinating hour with the men of the village. The last time there was such an initiation for young boys was 5 years ago. Again, the gods have been smiling on my walkabout. When a sufficient number of boys is ready, the leader of the village gives the word for a totem to be built. While the totem is being built by the designate, the rest of the men enter the jungle to search out, and bring to the site, the correct wood and branches. All of this is do
ne with the utmost care and with known specifics. The outside of the long house is drawn with symbols which are the totem for the different boys - lizards, wild pigs, crocodiles, and birds. The father and maternal uncle are the ones who are specifically involved in each boy's initiation. A pig is killed by each boy's family and placed inside the long house on a ledge. The long house is entered, a flap is drawn and sealed, and a fire is lit inside and out. This entering takes place prior to dawn, while it is still dark. The father and maternal uncle sit with the boy and paint him with ochre. The mothers are not permitted during this part of the ritual, and sit by themselves wailing. They are losing their sons to manhood. When 
at noon the flaps are removed, the maternal uncle in front and the father behind the boy, they hop across the threshold. Once out, the boy climbs a pole and retrieves a grass skirt. He is now a man. While the men of the village explain the ritual, they ask if Iain's older two sons, Yali and Sami, would like to be involved in the initiation. Iain asks, but the t
wo boys are leery. In previous times, at the end of the ritual, a bone was used to pierce the nose of each boy. That has been put aside for a squeezing of the nose. Saying good-bye, we head back and have lunch, do some shopping and arrive back home mid-afternoon.
Relaxing
Monday, March 17, 08
With the boys in school and Diana at work, Iain and I ride bikes to the shopping center. There my documents are dropped off at the Freeport office. So I can be recorded with the local police. While Iain shops for groceries, I take care of two important issues; haircut (first since 7 1/2 weeks ago) and firming up my ticket for Darwin. After lunch, we bicycle back and spend the remainder of the day on the internet and relaxing. When Iai
n goes out for a bicycle ride, it begins raining hard. He arrives bac
k drenched. The evening is quiet and relaxing. By 9:00, it's time for bed. Pictures-top left is the Wilson house, top right is a view down the street, bottom left and right are views of the afternoon rain from the front porch.
Holuwon pictures continued
Here are more pictures, plus several from Sentani where Soleman and I visited an ancient worship site.
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/HoluwonContinued
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/HoluwonContinued
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Glacier and Spear Fishing
Sunday, March 16, 0
8
Up early, Iain, his three sons, and I arrive at the airport at 7:45. What a treat! With a hard r
ain for much of the night, the weather has cleared and our view of the glacier is spectacular. For one hour we fly around the glacier and the Freeport mine. The mine is the largest gold mine and the second largest copper mine with the highest grade of copper in the world. It is a phenomenal sight. Best of all, however, is the glacier, windswept with blowing snow. The shear drops and tectonic upheavals are clearly visible. Upon returning, we hitch a ride home with Bruce and Deborah Cox who were part of the plane ride and teach in the Inter
national School. Iain and Diana decide to spend the afternoon on the West Levee. There is a stop to release a turtle which they return to its natural surroundings. The West Levee which Freeport built, splits the river. Heading down the levee for 15 minutes, we arrive where some of their friends are spear fishing. Iain puts on some water shoes and makes a valiant effort at catching some rainbow
fish for his aquarium. The Papuan men, four of them, swim, dive, and come up with a remarkable number of Tilapia, 20. Also speared is a 4 ft. catfish. This will feed an extended family for a good while. At one poin, a crocodile is spotted by one of the fishermen. With a whoop he warns the others and they move away from the reeds. Homeward bound, we are caught in a downpour, which continues at home in a lighter form. What a day! Tired, we are in bed early.
8Up early, Iain, his three sons, and I arrive at the airport at 7:45. What a treat! With a hard r
ain for much of the night, the weather has cleared and our view of the glacier is spectacular. For one hour we fly around the glacier and the Freeport mine. The mine is the largest gold mine and the second largest copper mine with the highest grade of copper in the world. It is a phenomenal sight. Best of all, however, is the glacier, windswept with blowing snow. The shear drops and tectonic upheavals are clearly visible. Upon returning, we hitch a ride home with Bruce and Deborah Cox who were part of the plane ride and teach in the Inter
national School. Iain and Diana decide to spend the afternoon on the West Levee. There is a stop to release a turtle which they return to its natural surroundings. The West Levee which Freeport built, splits the river. Heading down the levee for 15 minutes, we arrive where some of their friends are spear fishing. Iain puts on some water shoes and makes a valiant effort at catching some rainbow
fish for his aquarium. The Papuan men, four of them, swim, dive, and come up with a remarkable number of Tilapia, 20. Also speared is a 4 ft. catfish. This will feed an extended family for a good while. At one poin, a crocodile is spotted by one of the fishermen. With a whoop he warns the others and they move away from the reeds. Homeward bound, we are caught in a downpour, which continues at home in a lighter form. What a day! Tired, we are in bed early.
First Prize
Saturday, March 15, 08
Having settled in the bedroom waiting for me at the Wilson residence, Iain and I spend time catching up. During the afternoon I am able to machine wash my clothes. And, I can take a hot shower whenever I want. 6:30, he and I are picked up by some friends, Pasi and Ano, Finns working for Freeport, a large mining company locally, and are driven through rain to the local country club for a fund raiser benefiting the International School. We enter, are greeted and made welcome during the cocktail hour, and eventually find our way to our table - 12. Also present are 3 other men. Some light food is served, auctioning of baked goodies, a raffle and an 8 part quiz game. Our table wins the quiz, not even a close match. Someone jokingly refers to me as a ringer. First prize is a flight by MAF to see the glacier which is on a mountain 50 miles away. The mountain, Puncak Jaya, part of the range which runs through the center of the island, is 16,020 ft elevation. The glacier is 1 of 4 equatorial glaciers in the world. Most everyone living here has never had the opportunity to see it. Iain says, "What luck! You arrive and tomorrow we'll see the glacier." 11:30, the party breaks up and we hurry home.
Having settled in the bedroom waiting for me at the Wilson residence, Iain and I spend time catching up. During the afternoon I am able to machine wash my clothes. And, I can take a hot shower whenever I want. 6:30, he and I are picked up by some friends, Pasi and Ano, Finns working for Freeport, a large mining company locally, and are driven through rain to the local country club for a fund raiser benefiting the International School. We enter, are greeted and made welcome during the cocktail hour, and eventually find our way to our table - 12. Also present are 3 other men. Some light food is served, auctioning of baked goodies, a raffle and an 8 part quiz game. Our table wins the quiz, not even a close match. Someone jokingly refers to me as a ringer. First prize is a flight by MAF to see the glacier which is on a mountain 50 miles away. The mountain, Puncak Jaya, part of the range which runs through the center of the island, is 16,020 ft elevation. The glacier is 1 of 4 equatorial glaciers in the world. Most everyone living here has never had the opportunity to see it. Iain says, "What luck! You arrive and tomorrow we'll see the glacier." 11:30, the party breaks up and we hurry home.
Sentani, Again, and On
Saturday, March 15, 08
I spent the remainder of Thursday catching up on some email, checking with Sue about a medical issue, and restocking my money supply.
Friday, I flew Trigana Air from Wamena back to Sentani to be in position to continue on to Timika (There is no direct flight between Wamena and Timika). On the Wamena-Sentani flight, there is no screening of my person or luggage. The cockpit door is unlocked. No one instructs about seat belts or such things. It was very casual flight.
Now, in Sentani, it is Saturday and I am picked up by Soleman to be transported to the airport, one kilometer, on the back of his motorbik. Covering half the distance, it begins to rain hard. By the time we arrive at the terminal overhang, we are both drenched. With me laughing all the way, Soleman must be wondering about the sanity of Americans. Inside, the terminal is a steam bath. Once on the plane, Garuda Indonesia, I have a seat on the aisle. Next to me are two young women. It rapidly becomes apparent that they have never been on an airplane, especially the young woman sitting next to me. She sits erect, chest pounding, heart rate above safety limits, biting her knuckles, and fear written in her eyes. I show her how to work the seat belt and indicate the small things we take for granted - tray table and seat recline. She isn't interested. A weak smile escapes her mouth. Takeoff has her lips moving inaudibly in prayer. Her eyes watch every movement as I pull down the tray as a snack is passed out. There is a large part of me that wishes she had not needed such exposure with our technical age. I find myself internally objecting to what is happening to her. Why isn
't there room for the "old"? Yet, here she is and this is now her world too. When the snack boxes are removed by the flight attendants, I tell her to keep what she hasn't eaten. She gives me a worried smile and again bites her knuckles as we land.
To meet me are Iain Wilson, Diana his wife, and their three boys - Yali, Sami and Irian. I will be staying with them in Kuala Kencana. In the picture they are L-R Yali (7), Irian (4) and Sami (6).
I spent the remainder of Thursday catching up on some email, checking with Sue about a medical issue, and restocking my money supply.
Friday, I flew Trigana Air from Wamena back to Sentani to be in position to continue on to Timika (There is no direct flight between Wamena and Timika). On the Wamena-Sentani flight, there is no screening of my person or luggage. The cockpit door is unlocked. No one instructs about seat belts or such things. It was very casual flight.
Now, in Sentani, it is Saturday and I am picked up by Soleman to be transported to the airport, one kilometer, on the back of his motorbik. Covering half the distance, it begins to rain hard. By the time we arrive at the terminal overhang, we are both drenched. With me laughing all the way, Soleman must be wondering about the sanity of Americans. Inside, the terminal is a steam bath. Once on the plane, Garuda Indonesia, I have a seat on the aisle. Next to me are two young women. It rapidly becomes apparent that they have never been on an airplane, especially the young woman sitting next to me. She sits erect, chest pounding, heart rate above safety limits, biting her knuckles, and fear written in her eyes. I show her how to work the seat belt and indicate the small things we take for granted - tray table and seat recline. She isn't interested. A weak smile escapes her mouth. Takeoff has her lips moving inaudibly in prayer. Her eyes watch every movement as I pull down the tray as a snack is passed out. There is a large part of me that wishes she had not needed such exposure with our technical age. I find myself internally objecting to what is happening to her. Why isn
't there room for the "old"? Yet, here she is and this is now her world too. When the snack boxes are removed by the flight attendants, I tell her to keep what she hasn't eaten. She gives me a worried smile and again bites her knuckles as we land.To meet me are Iain Wilson, Diana his wife, and their three boys - Yali, Sami and Irian. I will be staying with them in Kuala Kencana. In the picture they are L-R Yali (7), Irian (4) and Sami (6).
Holuwon pictures
With several hundred pictures taken, it has been difficult to select a few which will illustrate the time spent there. Here are a few pictures of my stay.
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/Holuwon
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/Holuwon
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Holuwon - Thurs., March 13, 08
This is my last day here. Yariut arrives to say he has been unable to find me a bracelet. he has hardly finished speaking when in walks an elderly man. With both hands extended, he hands me a gift. It is a man's carrying net. This is the real thing, not made of nylon or thread. But made of orchid fiber. The fibers are dyed and woven. I am thrilled with this. It is more than a bracelet. A treasure! I have become a part of the community. But, it has happened gradually, taking a week to unfold. The fault, if there is any, does not lie with the Yali people. The shedding of loose trappings takes time - expectations, cynicism, the I factor. My dreams have shown it clearly. I wonder what another 2 weeks would bring. Yet, "When you've heard the message, hang up." What I've learned, and its acceptance into the depths, will continue as I travel. Each experience is a learning block in the building of something greater. To not give up on ourselves, and others, too quickly is the challenge, and the call.
A steady stream of men enter the sitting room, I serve coffee, and sit for a while - a good-bye ceremony of sitting and drinking together.
MAF lands and I say good-bye. On to Wamena and the next adventure.
A steady stream of men enter the sitting room, I serve coffee, and sit for a while - a good-bye ceremony of sitting and drinking together.
MAF lands and I say good-bye. On to Wamena and the next adventure.
Holuwon - Tues., March 11, 08
Another market morning. "No peanut butter ", as Yariut says. But, we stock up with other food. I'm finding it easier to walk on these paths. After watching for directions from the locals, I am taking smaller steps and anticipating more. Plainly, the correct foot on the rock is important. Otherwise, I get crossed up. Smaller, more well placed, is the key.
Children are seldom acknowledge by adults by greeting in passing. Whereas, every adult male acknowledge another. Few women are spoken to by a man when passing on the path. To greet a woman usually brings surprise from her-turning away from me. Disputes are decided in the village by the offended party yelling and walking through the village drawing a crowd. The issue is talked over loudly by the parties with all of the village hearing the dispute. In this way, it is all in the open. Children are mostly cared for by women, although there are times when men take a turn. All women are wet nurses-some for nourishment, others for comfort, for all children.
Lunch is a grated sweet potato fried in oil - enough oil to choke a billy goat. Lord have mercy, Yariut cooks some greens which are so bland. They taste like eating cooked leaves, which they are. they are fried in oil and then noodles are added. I make a quick decision and pick out all the greens to be eaten first. If my stomach gets wind of what's in store, the greens won't go down. Eat fast, eat now. It works! With no seasoning except salt, I'm beginning to long for something more. Where are you Michael B when I need you?
A plane from the Catholic organization AMA flies in and unloads some supplies for the secondary school's new building. The plane lands and out come 2 dented barrels of gas, a generator, tin and sacks of cement. Then, the fun begins. With boards, sticks, and muscle, the barrels are pushed, pulled and lifted first down off the airstrip, past the radio house, across a log bridge which sags but holds and up the steep incline to a house. Most everyone stands and watches, including me. 6 or 7 take hold and work. I half expect a slashed hand or a crushed foot. But, it all gets done. Cement is transported thrown over a stick supported between two shoulders.
The rain begins and I hurry out to retrieve my pants and shirt from the wash line. visions of my mother scurrying against the rain, pulling clothespins and throwing laundry over her arms accompany me.
These Yali are a noble and gentle people with an uncommon sublimity. Yet, they have been only recently "found". The first missionary into this area, and thus the first foreigner, was mid-60s. That ended with two missionary deaths by more than 100 arrows each. What happens when the individual and collective psyches of a people are jerked so violently into this modernism?
Lightning and rain are thundering through.
Children are seldom acknowledge by adults by greeting in passing. Whereas, every adult male acknowledge another. Few women are spoken to by a man when passing on the path. To greet a woman usually brings surprise from her-turning away from me. Disputes are decided in the village by the offended party yelling and walking through the village drawing a crowd. The issue is talked over loudly by the parties with all of the village hearing the dispute. In this way, it is all in the open. Children are mostly cared for by women, although there are times when men take a turn. All women are wet nurses-some for nourishment, others for comfort, for all children.
Lunch is a grated sweet potato fried in oil - enough oil to choke a billy goat. Lord have mercy, Yariut cooks some greens which are so bland. They taste like eating cooked leaves, which they are. they are fried in oil and then noodles are added. I make a quick decision and pick out all the greens to be eaten first. If my stomach gets wind of what's in store, the greens won't go down. Eat fast, eat now. It works! With no seasoning except salt, I'm beginning to long for something more. Where are you Michael B when I need you?
A plane from the Catholic organization AMA flies in and unloads some supplies for the secondary school's new building. The plane lands and out come 2 dented barrels of gas, a generator, tin and sacks of cement. Then, the fun begins. With boards, sticks, and muscle, the barrels are pushed, pulled and lifted first down off the airstrip, past the radio house, across a log bridge which sags but holds and up the steep incline to a house. Most everyone stands and watches, including me. 6 or 7 take hold and work. I half expect a slashed hand or a crushed foot. But, it all gets done. Cement is transported thrown over a stick supported between two shoulders.
The rain begins and I hurry out to retrieve my pants and shirt from the wash line. visions of my mother scurrying against the rain, pulling clothespins and throwing laundry over her arms accompany me.
These Yali are a noble and gentle people with an uncommon sublimity. Yet, they have been only recently "found". The first missionary into this area, and thus the first foreigner, was mid-60s. That ended with two missionary deaths by more than 100 arrows each. What happens when the individual and collective psyches of a people are jerked so violently into this modernism?
Lightning and rain are thundering through.
Holuwon - Sun., March 9, 08
To the right of the house there runs a stream. There is always a soft sound of rushing water. Yet, the sound increases noticeably after a rain, and especially a hard rain. Very soothing. This morning, following many hours of light to heavy rain, the stream is gushing full.
My nasal congestion has dramatically lessened. Maybe, it's the mountain air-probably simply time. Coughing has dropped to a nagging. I'm on the mend. With soap only being used once to wash dishes, I try to remember which cup is mine. The dishes have a film of oil and pieces of previous whatnot. Nothing is sanitary. It's a wonder I haven't caught something.
Erius comes in with a razor, one of the old fashioned type, and offers it for my use. Scrapping, and cutting through my beard, it's a painful shave-cold water and soap for lather.
Walking in to where I am taking breakfast, Yariut holds up a roll of toilet paper. where he found that only he knows. Triumphantly he places it in its spot. As I write, he has finished his laundry, placing the washed clothes on th line out back and is preparing to take a shower. Sunday best!
At 9:00, as last week, it is services. This time they appear better prepared for this white guy. An older gentleman is directing traffic as the crowd sings and mills around noisily. A rowdier group than last week. There are times I can't hear the speaker for all the commotion-children talking, crying, women pushing children to each other, men discussing something. There is a women's choir, which has many in the audience singing along. Also, an 8 man, 2 guitar special number. I hear, for the first time, an old English hymn set to Yali, "Nothing But The Blood of Jesus." The offering waits till I arrive. Quick learners. The service has the same main components as last week with me placing a nickname on the preacher-"Smiley". With a constant milling and rumbling from the crowd, he preaches from Rom. 13:11-14. Directly in front of me and sitting on the floor, as most everyone is, a mother rocks her young infant in her carrying net. To my front and left is a mother with a 2 year old who reaches into his mother's loose blouse for some comfort. As the sermon is heading for a close, with 10 minutes left, a 3 year old boy approaches me from my right, slaps my right knee, turns with his back to me, and presses in between my legs. My left hand goes around his chest and I pat him repeatedly. He presses closer. Who is this precious child? He makes me long for my own 3 year old grandson - Tyler. Pressing harder against my left leg, with my rubbing of his right shoulder and arm, he stays till it's time for me to leave. What brought him to me? Yesterday, I took sugar out to the children at the house. Is he one of those children?
Returning home I find my next book, "The Hollow Hills", The life of Merlin.
My nasal congestion has dramatically lessened. Maybe, it's the mountain air-probably simply time. Coughing has dropped to a nagging. I'm on the mend. With soap only being used once to wash dishes, I try to remember which cup is mine. The dishes have a film of oil and pieces of previous whatnot. Nothing is sanitary. It's a wonder I haven't caught something.
Erius comes in with a razor, one of the old fashioned type, and offers it for my use. Scrapping, and cutting through my beard, it's a painful shave-cold water and soap for lather.
Walking in to where I am taking breakfast, Yariut holds up a roll of toilet paper. where he found that only he knows. Triumphantly he places it in its spot. As I write, he has finished his laundry, placing the washed clothes on th line out back and is preparing to take a shower. Sunday best!
At 9:00, as last week, it is services. This time they appear better prepared for this white guy. An older gentleman is directing traffic as the crowd sings and mills around noisily. A rowdier group than last week. There are times I can't hear the speaker for all the commotion-children talking, crying, women pushing children to each other, men discussing something. There is a women's choir, which has many in the audience singing along. Also, an 8 man, 2 guitar special number. I hear, for the first time, an old English hymn set to Yali, "Nothing But The Blood of Jesus." The offering waits till I arrive. Quick learners. The service has the same main components as last week with me placing a nickname on the preacher-"Smiley". With a constant milling and rumbling from the crowd, he preaches from Rom. 13:11-14. Directly in front of me and sitting on the floor, as most everyone is, a mother rocks her young infant in her carrying net. To my front and left is a mother with a 2 year old who reaches into his mother's loose blouse for some comfort. As the sermon is heading for a close, with 10 minutes left, a 3 year old boy approaches me from my right, slaps my right knee, turns with his back to me, and presses in between my legs. My left hand goes around his chest and I pat him repeatedly. He presses closer. Who is this precious child? He makes me long for my own 3 year old grandson - Tyler. Pressing harder against my left leg, with my rubbing of his right shoulder and arm, he stays till it's time for me to leave. What brought him to me? Yesterday, I took sugar out to the children at the house. Is he one of those children?
Returning home I find my next book, "The Hollow Hills", The life of Merlin.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Holuwon - Sat., March 8, 08
Ereus is up, clanging and bumping around. I also rise. It is pre-dawn. Standing together and looking into the mountains, we discuss the villages across the way, where they are located and the cold they must be enduring under the clouds. Walking distances are talked about. From Holuwon to Wamena, a 15 minute flight by MAF, he will sleep three nights if it is walked-more for a light weight like me. Villages, across the valley, are 3 and 4 nights. To walk to Dekai, in the plain, will also be 3 nights. We talk of days. They speak of nights sleeping.
Holuwon is a mission station, although there are no missionaries here any longer. Yet, the look, feel, and character of a station are here. This type of dwelling, western in look, is found here because a missionary introduced it. The traditional huts are very crude and only used for sleeping. This is a livable house. Although, Mrs. Wilson would not be happy with its condition; the torn curtains and lack of housekeeping, generally.
About last night, around 6:30, Ereus returned and set a plate on the table. He proudly showed me the contents-two small sweet potatoes and a slice of pork. The sight of the pork tells me this will require all my will power. It is a slice of pig skin, 4"X2", burned from being in the fire. Next to the skin is fat. A few mouthfuls of eatable meat cling to the fat. With him watching, satisfaction on his face, I picked it up and ventured a bite. Responding with a forced look of pleasure, he stood as I chewed. When he leaves for a bathroom break, seeing my opportunity, I hurried out the kitchen and flung the remainder into the bushes lining the edge of the house. Hoping he hasn't caught a glimpse, he hasn't, I again, when he returns, said how delicious. He is please So am I!
Returning to Saturday-At 5:00, with a rain settling in, we sit by the stove and talk. Present are Yariut, Erius, another man, a 5 year old nephew of Erius, and 2 teenage nephews, also of Erius. Needing to wash my pants, the only pair I brought, I change into my sarong. The group gives me a big smile as I walk out to bucket some water from the rain barrel. With a light rain falling on me, I wash my clothes and bring them in to hang on a string close to the stove. They don't understand washing clothes at night. That is a day job so they can hang in the sun. The 2 teenagers are especially curious and watch my every move.
Holuwon is a mission station, although there are no missionaries here any longer. Yet, the look, feel, and character of a station are here. This type of dwelling, western in look, is found here because a missionary introduced it. The traditional huts are very crude and only used for sleeping. This is a livable house. Although, Mrs. Wilson would not be happy with its condition; the torn curtains and lack of housekeeping, generally.
About last night, around 6:30, Ereus returned and set a plate on the table. He proudly showed me the contents-two small sweet potatoes and a slice of pork. The sight of the pork tells me this will require all my will power. It is a slice of pig skin, 4"X2", burned from being in the fire. Next to the skin is fat. A few mouthfuls of eatable meat cling to the fat. With him watching, satisfaction on his face, I picked it up and ventured a bite. Responding with a forced look of pleasure, he stood as I chewed. When he leaves for a bathroom break, seeing my opportunity, I hurried out the kitchen and flung the remainder into the bushes lining the edge of the house. Hoping he hasn't caught a glimpse, he hasn't, I again, when he returns, said how delicious. He is please So am I!
Returning to Saturday-At 5:00, with a rain settling in, we sit by the stove and talk. Present are Yariut, Erius, another man, a 5 year old nephew of Erius, and 2 teenage nephews, also of Erius. Needing to wash my pants, the only pair I brought, I change into my sarong. The group gives me a big smile as I walk out to bucket some water from the rain barrel. With a light rain falling on me, I wash my clothes and bring them in to hang on a string close to the stove. They don't understand washing clothes at night. That is a day job so they can hang in the sun. The 2 teenagers are especially curious and watch my every move.
Holuwon - Thurs., March 6, 08
Yariut comes in whistling and singing a happy tune. It's 6:30. Looks like his leg infection has let up. Our routine is that I lock the house when he leaves after dinner. Last night was only a banana and a cup of coffee since we ate so much at lunch. Then, around first light, 5:15, I rise to unlock the kitchen door. He enters around 6:30, starts a fire which signals breakfast is soon. I tell him I will have a sweet potato for breakfast knowing he cooked four of them last night. He apparently took two of them home for himself. That, I consider, is quite presumptuous. But then, he shows me the vegetables he has brought this morning. It may be a this for that sort of arrangement which only he knows of.
My congestion remains, babied myself all day yesterday, a bit of coughing. Yet, I feel in full strength. If someone arrives to take me on a walk, I'll be able to accompany them. With most of the day yesterday inside, I have covered the majority of The Moonstone with only 80 pages remaining of 500. What next?
Having been referred to as omnivorous, I have found my match. These plantain are dull and lack any desirable qualities. Yariut baked one for each of us, of which I finished only 2/3 and, waiting for him to leave, deposited the remainder into the fire of the stove-returning it to Mordor.
My next book is "Nicholas and Alexandra" by Robert Massie. But first, a walk out to look around. My reading spots are; looking out the sitting window into the steep mountains, on the steps of the small front porch, on a rock down by the landing strip, or on the stone steps on the path looking over the strip.
At 10:00, I take my new read and plop myself on the rock by the landing strip. Instantly, who knows from where, a crowd develops. A group of girls wants their picture taken. that allows me to take also some pictures of children. A group of teenagers has attached themselves to me and so I hand my camera to one of them. They want to know about the book I am reading. How does one tell these children about Russia and the such history. All I can do is show them the pictures.
Two small sweet potatoes for lunch-Robert could you please pass the cinnamon and honey?
Ereus walks in with two teenagers, family members, from his village 4 hours walk. I offer them the one large sweet potato on the table. They accept, as well as each a cup of coffee heavily sugared. It feels good to have something to offer. The teenagers return to the village at 3:00. Ereus will spend the night.
Dinner is ready. It's 4:30, and my stomach is full. Yariut seems to make more than is possible to eat. He takes the rest home. Ereus asks if i have any batteries. I need to know how to reply, NO! Yes, I do! He takes the 2 AA, puts them in a digital camera. That's that! I'm learning. This is a guesthouse and as such is not my house. Yali men walk in and out at any time. Of course, In Yali culture, even if it were my home they would walk in and out.
My congestion remains, babied myself all day yesterday, a bit of coughing. Yet, I feel in full strength. If someone arrives to take me on a walk, I'll be able to accompany them. With most of the day yesterday inside, I have covered the majority of The Moonstone with only 80 pages remaining of 500. What next?
Having been referred to as omnivorous, I have found my match. These plantain are dull and lack any desirable qualities. Yariut baked one for each of us, of which I finished only 2/3 and, waiting for him to leave, deposited the remainder into the fire of the stove-returning it to Mordor.
My next book is "Nicholas and Alexandra" by Robert Massie. But first, a walk out to look around. My reading spots are; looking out the sitting window into the steep mountains, on the steps of the small front porch, on a rock down by the landing strip, or on the stone steps on the path looking over the strip.
At 10:00, I take my new read and plop myself on the rock by the landing strip. Instantly, who knows from where, a crowd develops. A group of girls wants their picture taken. that allows me to take also some pictures of children. A group of teenagers has attached themselves to me and so I hand my camera to one of them. They want to know about the book I am reading. How does one tell these children about Russia and the such history. All I can do is show them the pictures.
Two small sweet potatoes for lunch-Robert could you please pass the cinnamon and honey?
Ereus walks in with two teenagers, family members, from his village 4 hours walk. I offer them the one large sweet potato on the table. They accept, as well as each a cup of coffee heavily sugared. It feels good to have something to offer. The teenagers return to the village at 3:00. Ereus will spend the night.
Dinner is ready. It's 4:30, and my stomach is full. Yariut seems to make more than is possible to eat. He takes the rest home. Ereus asks if i have any batteries. I need to know how to reply, NO! Yes, I do! He takes the 2 AA, puts them in a digital camera. That's that! I'm learning. This is a guesthouse and as such is not my house. Yali men walk in and out at any time. Of course, In Yali culture, even if it were my home they would walk in and out.
Holuwon - Tues., March 4, 08
Up at 5:30, I head out to encounter the pasar (market). Damn! Rubber time. My 6:00 is their ? I return home to find Yariut starting a fire in the stove. Searching for my razor I can't find it. Of course, a "pimbi" must have lifted it. At 6:30, Yariut informs me we should go. He asks for money, lots of 1000rp bills, and shoulders a net. Arriving at th 60X15, not rectangular flat area, we see that only one vendor has arrived. On the flat are gatherings of stones on which the product will be displayed. people gather, mostly children. A man has an ax on his right shoulder, the handle hanging down the right side of his chest. More gather. A naked toddler slops through a puddle - children are the same everywhere. I take a seat on a rock which is apparently someone's display table. She arrives. I leave. Yariut canvasses the area knowing the products and vendors. Apparently some have better quality than others. He wanders, purchases, looks, asks, gives money, and this continues for an hour. Finally he says, "Go". We have boiled peanuts (God be praised), two kinds of bananas, one pineapple, oil, salt, sweet potatoes and some fruits and vegetables I can't even guess at. A scraggly dog barks as we pass. Peanuts, bananas, and coffee for breakfast. Best ever! When I have eaten my fill, Yariut presents me with a large, boiled plantain. Now, this I could have done without. But, I'll eat it. Half of it eaten, I give the rest back to Yariut indicating I'm full. he takes the half to the porch where a young boy devours the remainder.
With "Last of the Mohicans" finished last night by candle light, I need something else. If I want religious books, the choice is infinite - "An Utmost Part", "Missiology", "The True Worship", "Missionary Life and Work", "The Baptism and Gifts of the Holy Spirit", "Saved and Kept"... But, I'm looking for something a bit more stimulating. Ah, "The Moonstone", by Wilkie Collins.
I haven't been worth a damn, today - haven't left the house since pasar. Sitting by the window, my gaze taken by the rugged primal jungle and rocky slides of the mountains across the way, I have read "The Moonstone". Then, putting aside the book, I have kept my gaze fastened on the majesty of nature while listening to the high music of Handel's Messiah. Is there anything more divine in life?
With "Last of the Mohicans" finished last night by candle light, I need something else. If I want religious books, the choice is infinite - "An Utmost Part", "Missiology", "The True Worship", "Missionary Life and Work", "The Baptism and Gifts of the Holy Spirit", "Saved and Kept"... But, I'm looking for something a bit more stimulating. Ah, "The Moonstone", by Wilkie Collins.
I haven't been worth a damn, today - haven't left the house since pasar. Sitting by the window, my gaze taken by the rugged primal jungle and rocky slides of the mountains across the way, I have read "The Moonstone". Then, putting aside the book, I have kept my gaze fastened on the majesty of nature while listening to the high music of Handel's Messiah. Is there anything more divine in life?
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Holuwon - Sun., March 2, 08
I had a duel last night. On this side is me. On the other is a mouse and rat. They keep wanting my teas and soups. Finally, I place the soup up high on an open closet. What this house needs is a good mouser. (Later they are placed in a plastic container)
I find "Last of the Mohicans", portions of it. I am delighted. I enjoy the evening when Yariut leaves, stomach is full, or partway, and I can read unbothered. The Yali believe that being alone is to be avoided at all cost. Always, there is someone who stops in or walks with me. Solitude is understood as a failure of the community.
Sunday worship - Yariut arrives close to 9:00, and ushers me to the Gereja (church). Singing has already been in full voice for 30 minutes. The Gereja has several steps to a small porch and entry is at the back. Stepping over children, we enter. Immediately at the back is a row of benches, also a row along the very front right. Otherwise, worshipers are seated on the floor; men on the right and women on the left. The bench loses someone and I sit. I'm fortunate not to be ushered to the front. The leader sings verses as the audience replies with a chorus. There never is silence, just less noise - children milling, crying, whooping, low talking. The leader carries on. One man stands on stage and begins a prayer, fig leaf stance. At the length of his "prayer" he must be either reciting every bit of Bible knowledge he has, or is relating his family history. My bet is on the former. A cockroach scurries among the seated, no one notices. Now the doorway is blocked with children and late comers. Trapped! Come prepared, no bathroom breaks. Up stands the preacher and begins a too long rendition of something. Bible is read periodically. At the 30 minute mark he shows no signs of slowing. Where did he learn that? Or is it for my benefit? Children continue milling. Heat builds. Worshipers are restless, some node off. A few parents walk out with children, i remember that trick. Pinch the child... Suddenly, since I didn't hear it coming, the preacher is finished. One more song and I am told that I cn leave. What no offering? The mundele (Kituba for white guy) could be tapped for some cash. Apparently it happened prior to my arrival. I am guessing that won't happen again.
Evening comes, again the rain, a welcome visitor. Candles and soup. An old man brought me 4 sweet potatoes following service. Tomorrow!
On the stove is a large kettle which I use for a hot shower (pour water over oneself). My first hot shower since Kota Kinabalu.
I find "Last of the Mohicans", portions of it. I am delighted. I enjoy the evening when Yariut leaves, stomach is full, or partway, and I can read unbothered. The Yali believe that being alone is to be avoided at all cost. Always, there is someone who stops in or walks with me. Solitude is understood as a failure of the community.
Sunday worship - Yariut arrives close to 9:00, and ushers me to the Gereja (church). Singing has already been in full voice for 30 minutes. The Gereja has several steps to a small porch and entry is at the back. Stepping over children, we enter. Immediately at the back is a row of benches, also a row along the very front right. Otherwise, worshipers are seated on the floor; men on the right and women on the left. The bench loses someone and I sit. I'm fortunate not to be ushered to the front. The leader sings verses as the audience replies with a chorus. There never is silence, just less noise - children milling, crying, whooping, low talking. The leader carries on. One man stands on stage and begins a prayer, fig leaf stance. At the length of his "prayer" he must be either reciting every bit of Bible knowledge he has, or is relating his family history. My bet is on the former. A cockroach scurries among the seated, no one notices. Now the doorway is blocked with children and late comers. Trapped! Come prepared, no bathroom breaks. Up stands the preacher and begins a too long rendition of something. Bible is read periodically. At the 30 minute mark he shows no signs of slowing. Where did he learn that? Or is it for my benefit? Children continue milling. Heat builds. Worshipers are restless, some node off. A few parents walk out with children, i remember that trick. Pinch the child... Suddenly, since I didn't hear it coming, the preacher is finished. One more song and I am told that I cn leave. What no offering? The mundele (Kituba for white guy) could be tapped for some cash. Apparently it happened prior to my arrival. I am guessing that won't happen again.
Evening comes, again the rain, a welcome visitor. Candles and soup. An old man brought me 4 sweet potatoes following service. Tomorrow!
On the stove is a large kettle which I use for a hot shower (pour water over oneself). My first hot shower since Kota Kinabalu.
Holuwon - Sat, March 1, 08
I will simply highlight these days.
Saturday, I realize, after looking through my bag, that I brought none of my medicines for stomach ailments, or for malaria. I won't worry about something that isn't an issue, yet.
Together with 15 children circling, the director of the primary school, Enitan, and I head to where there apparently is a hydro-electric plant. Such agility and endurance I wish I had. Silently, we move up the rough terrain and down again. Up and... I have learned to follow, rather than always having the children underfoot by saying "Jalan" - go ahead. At the plant there doesn't appear to be a problem, but there is no electric power in the house. Candles will do! Everyone goes in for a swim. I throw water on my head and neck - it's hot. The heavy rain from last night has made the ground soggy, wet, and muddy. Puddles form at the slightest chance and stepping through them is squishy. The Yali use three streams. One is for bathing. Another for laundry. And the other is for bathroom purposes. Only a fool would get this mixed up.
Arriving back at the village, I bid farewell to Enitan and, with fewer children in tow, am home. With my water bottles now full of boiled water, I see an enormous spider in the sink. Eying each other, I make a note that flip flops are now a part of my body. Soup again.
Saturday, I realize, after looking through my bag, that I brought none of my medicines for stomach ailments, or for malaria. I won't worry about something that isn't an issue, yet.
Together with 15 children circling, the director of the primary school, Enitan, and I head to where there apparently is a hydro-electric plant. Such agility and endurance I wish I had. Silently, we move up the rough terrain and down again. Up and... I have learned to follow, rather than always having the children underfoot by saying "Jalan" - go ahead. At the plant there doesn't appear to be a problem, but there is no electric power in the house. Candles will do! Everyone goes in for a swim. I throw water on my head and neck - it's hot. The heavy rain from last night has made the ground soggy, wet, and muddy. Puddles form at the slightest chance and stepping through them is squishy. The Yali use three streams. One is for bathing. Another for laundry. And the other is for bathroom purposes. Only a fool would get this mixed up.
Arriving back at the village, I bid farewell to Enitan and, with fewer children in tow, am home. With my water bottles now full of boiled water, I see an enormous spider in the sink. Eying each other, I make a note that flip flops are now a part of my body. Soup again.
Holuwon - Fri., Feb. 29, 08
Mike Brown, MAF pilot, flies me, and the others in the Cessna Caravan (9 passengers plus baggage), out the south gap. Wamena is 5170 ft in altitude. Holuwon is 35oo ft. Only a 15 minute flight, the terrain is so rugged and mountainous, that roads are not possible. It is a three day walk if you want to try that. The Holuwon airstrip rises at 15 degrees so the stall warning screeches as we land. With other Holuwon residents, and baggage, on board, the entire village appears to be at the landing zone. It is 7:45 AM. With my Indo/English dictionary in hand, I am led up a stone path to the Wilson house which has been turned into a guesthouse. Immediately. a man takes charge. He is Yariut, keeper of the guests. Also, staying here is Erius, who is from Holuwon but lives currently in Dekai. He will walk home to his village, 4 hours, stay for several days, and return with a pig. We can't communicate well enough for me to find out what the pig is about. Except, it is either for his wife's family or his fiancee. I'm not sure. i walk to the airstrip, just below the house, and am approached by a man and a teenage boy. Making a walk through the village will let me find my bearings and let everyone catch sight of this white man. Most of the young boys and girls are ketakutan (scared). I'm trying to learn some basic words-numbers, week days, fruit. Lunch is a small sweet potato. i have brought along 40 packets of soup (38 actually, since 2 later are eaten by a rat). I am informed that there is no silverware. OK, I'll slurp my soup. My second cup of tea is warming me.
Evidence that this was a missionary house is everywhere, sentimental posters on the wall, monopoly and scrabble games in the curtained cupboard, religious books (English), an easy chair. The house is a 2 storied structure of dark wood built above ground on short stilts. The windows are louvered, no screens. But, the bed has a mosquito net. The house is adequately large, 3 bedrooms downstairs and another 2 upstairs. The rest of the upstairs is storage area. The downstairs is completed by a small office, living and eating room, bathroom, and kitchen/pantry. I can not leave the house without attracting a mob of children. First, they are afraid. But, when I pull out my camera, they can't get enough of me. One puts his arm around me as we walk. Another, covered in scabs, touches my hand. I will wash at the house. Those scabs look menacing.
The rest of the days is spent with 7 boys, aged 8-11, who are practicing their archery skills. These bows and arrows are tailor made for them - small, less powerful - which they use to shoot ants and other bugs.
As darkness comes, so does the fog rolling up the valley in a dramatic fashion from the south moving so quickly it is upon us within minutes and brings the rain. I have come prepared with 16 candles.
Soup for dinner. This soup is noodles with some flavoring - low in nutrition.
Oh, found the cutlery.
Evidence that this was a missionary house is everywhere, sentimental posters on the wall, monopoly and scrabble games in the curtained cupboard, religious books (English), an easy chair. The house is a 2 storied structure of dark wood built above ground on short stilts. The windows are louvered, no screens. But, the bed has a mosquito net. The house is adequately large, 3 bedrooms downstairs and another 2 upstairs. The rest of the upstairs is storage area. The downstairs is completed by a small office, living and eating room, bathroom, and kitchen/pantry. I can not leave the house without attracting a mob of children. First, they are afraid. But, when I pull out my camera, they can't get enough of me. One puts his arm around me as we walk. Another, covered in scabs, touches my hand. I will wash at the house. Those scabs look menacing.
The rest of the days is spent with 7 boys, aged 8-11, who are practicing their archery skills. These bows and arrows are tailor made for them - small, less powerful - which they use to shoot ants and other bugs.
As darkness comes, so does the fog rolling up the valley in a dramatic fashion from the south moving so quickly it is upon us within minutes and brings the rain. I have come prepared with 16 candles.
Soup for dinner. This soup is noodles with some flavoring - low in nutrition.
Oh, found the cutlery.
Where has he been!
March 14, 2008 - 10:30 - Sentani
How does one begin to express the experiences of the past 2 weeks. This will be attempted in a series of blog entries which will have dates so they can be followed. For a comment on my health, I am on a blood pressure drug called Cardura. Four days into my Holuwon stay, I felt lightheaded. This is not common for me. On the label it says that Cardura can cause dizziness. I immediately split the dosage and took half morning and half evening. This didn't help. I dropped to half a dose. No change. I canceled out the drug all together. Still the dizziness. So, I returned to a half dose, with dizziness, and stuck it out. The lightheadedness was not serious. But, it was felt most often upon standing after sitting. Upon returning to Wamena, I sought out the help of Sue Trenier, a nurse who lives 1 1/2 miles from where I was staying at Hotel Nayal, near the airport. I walked the way to her house and talked to her about the problem. In her book it says that Cardura distribution is 98% protein-bound. There it was. For the past 2 weeks I have had no protein, only a few peanuts. Picking up my backpack, which I had stored at her place, I walked the distance back. Immediately, it being near 6:oo PM, I had a fish dinner. This morning I returned to my full dose and have not felt any of the conditions I had been experiencing. Now, to some Holuwon entries.
How does one begin to express the experiences of the past 2 weeks. This will be attempted in a series of blog entries which will have dates so they can be followed. For a comment on my health, I am on a blood pressure drug called Cardura. Four days into my Holuwon stay, I felt lightheaded. This is not common for me. On the label it says that Cardura can cause dizziness. I immediately split the dosage and took half morning and half evening. This didn't help. I dropped to half a dose. No change. I canceled out the drug all together. Still the dizziness. So, I returned to a half dose, with dizziness, and stuck it out. The lightheadedness was not serious. But, it was felt most often upon standing after sitting. Upon returning to Wamena, I sought out the help of Sue Trenier, a nurse who lives 1 1/2 miles from where I was staying at Hotel Nayal, near the airport. I walked the way to her house and talked to her about the problem. In her book it says that Cardura distribution is 98% protein-bound. There it was. For the past 2 weeks I have had no protein, only a few peanuts. Picking up my backpack, which I had stored at her place, I walked the distance back. Immediately, it being near 6:oo PM, I had a fish dinner. This morning I returned to my full dose and have not felt any of the conditions I had been experiencing. Now, to some Holuwon entries.
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