Development

Sitting with my village family in the evenings, the talk often turns to development. Even when they’re speaking in Kope I can tell when this topic comes up, as words like ‘development’, ‘plantation’, and ‘pipeline’ starting slipping in. The conversation also has a hopeful tone. When the conversation is in English and I can participate, I am torn between hope and doubt.

The only wage earners in our village are the school teachers. Everyone else lives a subsistence lifestyle, which is hard work. Everyone also has a relative earning income somewhere, income that helps to support them, raise their living standards and making life a little easier. Development brings with it the promise of more ways to earn income, a better life and an easier life. I can see the appeal.

The neat patterns of a palm oil plantation from the air.

Development also brings its challenges. Oil palm is known to be back breaking work and an industry that destroys ecosystems. Logging companies cut down timbers that took generations to grow and do not do planned reforestation. Oil and gas companies have the best local reputation, but extracting the fuels that contribute to global warming when we live so close to sea level and are at the mercy of rising seas seems counterproductive. Friends at home boycott palm oil and rainforest timbers, and seek to reduce their reliance on fossil fuels. In the village, these things are the promise of better times.

When I can, I raise some of the issues I am aware of, and each time I have been impressed that leadership appears to already be taking these things into account. I may be afraid of multinational companies ripping off local land owners and leaving destruction in their wake, but I think that the companies will find that they are negotiating with some well informed and wise people.

The primary challenge to development is often local, as disputes over land ownership, compensation and the like bring the whole process to a halt. Who do royalties go to? How should they be divided up? Who is responsible for managing the funds given to the community? Are they to be trusted? These are the bigger challenges.

A mill with logs waiting to be turned into planks.

The rumours around development plans are many, varied and grand. My personal favourite was a road that was to be built to Western Province, through Torres Straight, to Cairns and ‘from there to Australia’. Never mind the fact that Australia started at Torres Straight, which is made of water and islands and is not very good for roads. Also, I think the Australian Government may have some objections to such a plan.

 Development is always happening ‘soon’. I am happy for it to take it’s time and to be done well, rather than to have a short term gain and a long term loss. As I am hoping to remain working in this area for many years, I’m sure I will see the fruit of some of the rumours. It will be interesting to see which ones become realities.

Jesus Film

Today we dedicate the Jesus Film in Kope.

When I return from the village in four weeks I’ll be able to write and let you know how the dedication went and what the initial impact of the film was. All blog posts until then (including this one) will be pre-written (if I can manage to write them before flying out) and scheduled to go online during my village time. Until I can give you an update though, I thought I’d tell you about how on my second language learning trip I can possibly be dedicating the Jesus Film already.

In short, I walk in the footprints of those who went before me.

Robbie and Debbie have been working with several languages in Gulf Province to help them with translating, checking and recording the script of the Jesus Film. This will be the third of these films completed and dedicated, and there are two more in the works.

Through the translating and recording process, the Kope community demonstrated their commitment to translation. Many communities express a desire to have God’s word in their language, but not all show their willingness to make it happen. The Kope did, and when they finished the recording process and were asked ‘What next?’ their response was ‘The New Testament!’

This is where I come into the picture, as translation adviser to the Kope people. My job is to help the Kope community continue with their translation work. Calling myself a Bible translator always seems a bit amiss, as I rarely do any actual translation. Rather, I am a trainer, adviser, checker, resourcer, typist, formatter, networker and motivator for the actual translators, who are the native speakers of the language.

The commitment to translation demonstrated through the Jesus Film process has continued. This was evident in how soon I had a completed village house to live in as I work with the Kope. The enthusiasm is still evident in that they want to start drafting the gospel of Luke straight away. I can barely put a simple sentence together in Kope, but we can still start on this work if they wish, as they are all language experts already. For now I will use a trade language (English) for my part in the process, although I intend to continue language learning.

We will be starting with Luke as that is the gospel that the Jesus Film is based on. We will then continue with the second volume of Luke, more commonly known as the Acts of the Apostles, as this is already partially in draft form. These drafts are thanks to the work of Tiramu in the 80s and his careful storage of these drafts over the intervening years. Between these two things (old drafts and a new film), we hope the translation process will get off to a good start.

On my first language learning trip, we dedicated my village house. On my second trip we will dedicate the Jesus Film. This is a rather remarkable start!

I love clouds

Flying back to PNG from holidays I was reminded of how much  I love clouds. 

It was a love affair that started at sea, where the clouds herald changes of weather.

It is a love affair I continue on the rivers, where the clouds paint the blue canvas that dominates the view.

The best view of clouds though is from a plane, preferably a small one, where they are a landscape in their own right.

Sometimes they fill the valleys like a giant bubble bath of foam.

Other times they define a valley, like a strange tropical version of a glacier.

They play peek-a-boo with the mountains.

They are just beautiful.

Except when they block an airstrip and prevent us from landing.

Still, I love clouds.

Fortnight

On the way to Teredau

It is Friday afternoon on ‘fortnight’, the day when people get paid. There is no paid work in Ubuo village, but everyone has family somewhere who is getting paid today. The nearest waged labour is at Teredau, a timber mill upstream from us. All sorts of people are heading to Teredau on the rising tide, taking baskets of crabs and other things with them. They may give these to family there and receive other goods in exchange, or they may sell them at the market and use the income to buy other things.

Teredau

The teenage males in my household are also heading to Teredau. They’ve been sent with baskets of crabs from the women and instructions on who to give them to and what to return with. The teens are just looking to have a good time and try to escape before the crabs are ready for transport.

Each lad heads out with a bush knife and a paddle. Someone comes back to get fire to take with them. It looks like some crabs may be eaten on route and not make it to Teredau!

Hanging out when the work day is done

There is a sense of fun in all the preparations. The teens are off to have a good time with older relatives who’ve just been paid. The people staying home know they’ll return with goods to share.

Other canoe loads are getting ready to go to Kikori (the nearest town) or Sirebi, also to sell goods at market or to spend time with recently paid family.

Loaded with cargo, ready
to return to the village

Saturday is quiet, as so many people have gone away. On Sunday many start to return, when the tide is right. There is extra food at dinner, from the store at Teredau or from the gardens. There they have enough elevation to be safe from flooding, so can grow different foods.

Fortnight in the village.

Kikori

A foggy sunrise over the river at Kikori

I was in Kikori having a few days break with my friends at the hospital and had gone for a walk to town when suddenly there was action all about. Two drunken men came running down the road towards me and disappeared into the bush. Behind them came a car full of police with guns, chasing down the drunks. I walked the other direction and took the long way home, away from all the action.

In some parts of PNG people have a reputation for being bel hat (short fused). This is not one of those areas, but I’ve spent time in those areas and have learnt to walk away from all public disturbances in case they escalate.

My detour brought me back to the quiet of the hospital about 2 minutes ahead of the police car arriving loudly. I should have known that police chases are likely to end at a hospital! The ones on TV sure look like they will. I had assumed police violence and that a drunk was the patient, but was I wrong. While chasing down the drunks, one of the police had dropped dead. Most likely it was a heart attack.

The helicopter arrives for the Medivac.

My doctor friend and her team spent the next half hour doing their best to revive the policeman, but in the end they pronounced him dead. The wailing coming from the emergency room as people gathered to say farewell was very loud. He was a much respected man.

Meanwhile, a helicopter arrived at the hospital to pick up a patient for a medivac to a bigger hospital. An oil company in the region will use their helicopters to help in this way when needed. The helicopter buzzed overheard, the crowds came out of the wards to watch the action and the people in emergency kept wailing. The patient was carried on a stretcher through the watching crowd to the helicopter that carried her away.

The next day there was a constant stream of people passing the hospital, bush knives in hand. The hospital staff joined the stream, carrying their bush knives also. My inquiries into what was going on revealed that everyone had been called out to cut the airstrip. That explained the incomprehensible shouting I’d heard through the loud hailer all morning. The policeman was from another province and was a respected man, so the whole community was expected to contribute to cutting the airstrip to allow his body to be flown back to his family.

A foggy sunrise over the river at Kikori

Joining the crowd, armed with a camera rather than a bush knife, I chatted with some locals about the state of the airstrip. My pilot friends had told me the strip was closed due to the Marsden matting (metal sheeting) coming up and creating sharp edges that popped plane tyres. My local sources told me that previous plane crashes had occurred because the pilots were idiots who didn’t know how to fly. I think I’ll trust my pilot friends on this one, as they are certainly not idiots. There was a team walking the airstrip with a mallet beating the edges of the matting back into place, so it seemed like the actual cause was being dealt with, even if it was not being believed. The next day a plane successfully landed and took off again, without any flat tyres, to retrieve the body of the policeman and fly it across the country to his family.

So much drama in such a small town!