Diodio

Goodenough Island, Milne Bay Province

The second part of our translation awareness trip was with the Diodio on Goodenough Island. Our arrival here was much more low key and we wondered if they had remembered that we were coming. Sitting under the mango tree we caught our breath from the 20 min walk up from the beach. It had not been a hard walk, but the humidity had caused me to sweat so much that it was dripping off my nose. Yuck. Time seated in the shade and an eventual cup of tea did much to restore my spirits.

Goodenough Island is about 40km long and nearly 2.5km tall. Occasionally we could see the mountains, but they were often lost in the clouds. People live on the coastal plains around the edge of the Island. In this small space there are several languages; Bwaidoka, Iduna, Kaninuwa and a dialect chain that stretches along the north and west coast. The villages along this chain have over 80% lexical similarity from one end to the other. To say where a language begins or ends, and what it should be called, is a complex question. For now, we shall say we were in Diodio language, as that is what some people in the village I visited called it, although others said differently. 

Returning to Kwadima II

This time the workshop was attended largely by community leaders from both the United and Catholic church as well as from nearby villages. These churches have a long and strong presence on Goodenough Island and are behind most of the schools, clinics and aid posts on the island. This meant that people had much higher education and grasp of English. Not needing a translator certainly simplified the workshop! Once again, people engaged with the workshops and came away inspired to begin work in their own language. To me, that is the measure of a successful trip. 

Even in this area of higher education, the need for translation was highlighted for me in discussion with a lay preacher in training. Together we talked out way through the text she was preaching on the following day. We identified the foreign words and ideas, we talked about cultural assumptions and hidden meanings, and about how she could communicate the message of the text in a clear, accurate and natural way. This woman had a good grasp of English, but had clearly missed much of the meaning in the text. If the text had been in her heart language, the meaning would have been clear. 

Rainbow farewell to Diodio

We left Diodio on Sunday afternoon. As we walked back down to the beach, all I was allowed to carry was my own billum (handbag). All of our luggage and stores went ahead of us on the heads and backs of others. It is an expression of hospitality, but a bit awkward for someone used to looking after herself. I rainbow covered the sky as we waved goodbye to our new friends on the beach 

As the sun set and the stars came out, we were on our way back to Alotau. With no moon, the stars were incredible. I am thankful that I can still see the Southern Cross from here as it makes home feel a little bit closer. In the sea I delighted in one of my favourite things; dolphins swimming in phosphorescence. When dolphins move through these tiny marine creatures they glow like underwater fireflies. The result is a dolphin shaped glowing streak with a fairy dust trail that plays on the bow wave. Stars above and comets below. Beautiful.

Dimadima

Two weeks to the day after I arrived in PNG I was back at sea and on Kwadima II heading off on a Translation Awareness Trip. It felt good to be on the water, even if we were motoring. Leaving early afternoon from Alotau we rounded East Cape near sunset. In the morning we stopped at Worupa village to pick up Kipling, an Anuki man, and were at Yarame village, in Dima, by early afternoon. We had been invited there by the community to help them understand what was involved in starting a Bible translation project in their language.

Our welcome was grand! By dingy we came up the creek among the mangroves, landed and walked among banana palms and gardens to the village. As we approached the village, we were met by a welcoming party. Dressed traditionally, playing drums and singing they welcomed us to the village by replaying how they welcomed the first missionaries and pretending to spear us. It was a little intimidating, to be honest.

Dimdima man singing a welcome song

We were shown through the village to a house they had finished for us to stay in and given four chairs to sit on, the only chairs in the village. Once the song was done we came back down to the grass and met people through a series of speeches. There was quite a reaction when I was introduced as only having been in PNG for two weeks. Hopefully this meant I was readily forgiven for anything I did that was inappropriate, as I'm still learning about PNG life and culture. As the crowd dispersed we were brought fresh pineapple, pawpaw and sweet black tea. It was the beginning of an expression of hospitality which I almost found overwhelming. As an egalitarian Aussie I'm not used to being made a fuss off like this and had to be deliberate about accepting it as the generous gift that it was.

Church the next morning was distinctly Anglican, but with Dimadima songs, including in the liturgy. The drums, guitars and voices were beautiful. Less beautiful but more amusing was the choir that accompanied the church bell; all the dogs in the village gathered and howled every time the bell was rang, with the roosters providing some punctuation to their chorus.

Translation exercise

The workshops themselves went well. A good cross section of the community gathered and joined in the sessions. Although English is the language of wider communication in Milne Bay, we got Kipling to translate for us during the day. He has Dimadima people in his family and speaks their language. Like so many people in this country, he speaks several local languages. At the end of the workshops, the community was inspired to proceed with a translation in their language. This was decided in a town meeting held on the grass after the workshops.

Being part of a community process like this was good. We came by invitation, shared our expertise and then let the local community decide what next. The ball is in their court to make the next moves; forming a committee, nominating local people to be the translation team and organising for them to come to a training course later in the year. The community welcomed us and looked after us exceptionally well.

Ladies preparing bananas for dinner

On the last night we shared a meal with most of the village as well as guests from other villages. I watched enormous bunches of bananas brought in from the gardens, prepared, cooked and eaten. Men had been fishing and women had been collecting shells from the mangroves for us to eat. There were speeches of thanks and of motivation for proceeding with translation. There was much hand shaking and I got good at saying nuba yamaibi  'good night' to people as they left.

Farwell to Dimdima. Note the cross they have on the hill above their village.

Yamaibi 'good' sums up our time at Yarame. Invited, welcomed, hosted, listened to and able to inspire people. It was indeed yamaibi.

Superstitions

Every people group in the world has their superstitions. The challenge can be to work out if they are just a meaningless habit, express a deeper belief or are maybe contradictory to a confessed faith. 

Australians also have both meaningless habits and things they should maybe reflect upon. Take for example saying ‘Bless you!’ when someone sneezes. People are usually not saying a quick prayer to protect the sneezer from the black death! They are simply being polite. On the other hand, what does it mean when people swear using the name ‘Jesus’? For some it is meaningless, for others it is deeply offensive.

Sailors have a range of superstitions. Women used to be considered bad luck on ships. This was probably because one or two women among a crew of men would lead to jealousy and disputes. I have worked on ships for years and never had anyone seriously tell me that it was bad luck for me to be aboard. Rather, I have been welcomed.

Bananas are another thing considered bad luck on ships. This may be because ripening bananas emit a gas that makes other fruit ripen faster, thus ruining the ship’s supplies. I’ve found bananas on ships to be a wonderful food for seasick people. Others hold to the superstition. I’ve been made to throw out perfectly good bananas to keep a skipper happy. Another skipper banned brussel sprouts from the ship… but that was about personal preference, not bad luck.

That it is bad luck to start a voyage on a Friday is another superstition I have encountered, especially Friday 13^th. Some link the idea of Friday being bad luck to Jesus being crucified on a Friday. Yet I call that day Good Friday, for it is a day of love, forgiveness and self sacrifice. 

So it is that I, a woman, will be leaving Alotau by boat on a two week translation awareness trip on Friday. Friday 13^th in fact. There will probably be bananas aboard, as they are a staple food in this country. The superstitions which I am breaking are all ones I see as insignificant, because my worldview is different to the times the superstitions were formed. Also, I believe in a God who is more powerful than bananas or calendars. 

For Christians in PNG to face their traditional superstitions is a bigger challenge. It involves investigating the origins of their beliefs, reflecting on the Bible and spending a lot of time in conversation and in prayer. What can stay and what do they wish to change? Worldview is deeply embedded and change occurs slowly. Quick change is rarely lasting. Imposed change often only occurs at a surface level. Deep and lasting change comes from the initiative of the people themselves.

Food

Food is central to cultural expressions and gatherings. People can be as American as apple pie, bake pumpkin scones like Flo or strongly associate honey biscuits with Christmas. Maybe there is a family secret to a good fruit cake. Alternatively, fruit cake may be an insult to give as a gift, as my sister once found out.  In coming to PNG many people asked me what I would be eating. Well, I can give you a report on the first week.

This week I have been at living in the mostly ex-patriot town of Ukarumpa. Food has been an expression of hospitality, as I’ve eaten more main meals with others than alone. The food served has reflected the home culture of the people I ate with as well as what was available. The day I arrived the fresh produce market had not happened, due to an argument between groups the previous market day. This meant people were a little low on fruit and veg by the end of the weekend.

Fresh produce market

Usually the Ukarumpa market happens every Mon, Wed and Fri morning. The food is all local. Any food miles have been miles made on foot. I’m told some of the people walk over an hour to come and sell at market. Pineapples, bananas, avocados; the tropical fruit is delicious and cheap. Peas and corn are also for sale but are not as sweet or juicy as at home. Tinned varieties of these are available in the store but I prefer to support the local economy and not pay for the shipping of tins.

The store stocks food from around the world, because it caters for a community from around the world. I am still getting used to prices and am enjoying trying brands I’ve not tried before. I’ve not tried anything particularly strange, just local brands.

Looking across the river at a coffee plantation

At home in Australia I try to purchase only fair trade tea and coffee. Here, I purchase local tea and coffee. One little luxury I brought with was a travel mug with an infuser that works for either tea or coffee. I’ve very much enjoying quality brewed tea and coffee from local plantations. 

During the last few years, Tuesday night has been community tea night for me and a gathering of friends. For a while there, Tuesday night tea was happening on a Monday, but I never quite changed what I called it. Last week, just when I was thinking ‘Tomorrow is Tuesday. I should invite someone for dinner’ I was invited to a potluck dinner by someone else. What a surprise and a blessing. It was even on the ‘right’ night!

The other shared meal that was a feature this week was sharing a Passover sedar with the Tok Pisin congregation on Thursday night. Everything was done in Tok Pisin, so I only partially understood what was going on. My understanding was boosted by the relationship of the language to English and the fact that I’d been involved in Passover meals before and knew the general flow and content. It was an appropriate start to my first Easter weekend in PNG. 

Soon I’ll be going on a translation awareness trip in Milne Bay Province. I’ll be living and eating with local people. I’ll give you another food update after that, but I’m hoping that it might include some local seafood. Have a blessed Easter and may you take time to reflect on the resurrection. Have a hot cross bun for me, as I’ve not been organised enough to make my own this year.