Here today, gone tomorrow

The life of a single, unassigned linguist is a varied one that involves rarely staying in one place for too long. Being unassigned to a language project long term, I am free to help with various projects and workshops in different parts of the country. Being single also gives me the freedom to come and go in a way that families and couples cannot.

May started and ended for me in New Ireland. At the start of the month I was at NITI and at the end of the month running a Sunday School materials workshop in Kavieng. In between, I had three weeks back at Ukarumpa. Three weeks in which to unpack, clean and wind down from the trip to NITI, to catch up with office work that had been left unattended, to relax with sewing and reading, to send out my newsletter, to welcome newcomers from orientation, to farewell a friend ‘going finish’, to enjoy the company of a visiting friend, to catch up with local friends, to attend a lecture by a visiting linguist and to prepare and pack for my next six weeks away. It was a busy time.

A common conversation at the store, church or along the road went;

 ‘I’ve not seen you in awhile’
‘I was away until about week ago’

‘We should catch up’
 ‘Yes, but I leave in a little over a week.’

Another comment I’ve heard more than once is that I’ve seen a lot more of the country in 14 months than many people have after years living and working in PNG. It is true that in assisting with various programmes and workshops in many places I have been exposed to all sorts of cultural and geographical variations. It has been a privilege, but it has a cost.

When I am away, I often work long days, up to seven days a week. When not working, but in a village situation, you are still in the public eye and not truly off duty. Being away takes a lot of planning and preparation. I am very thankful for the willingness of my neighbours to feed my cat in my absence. Communication is harder when away because email is slow and expensive, and phones may or may not work.

Coming and going has other challenges. This time I am going to three locations in six weeks with five different roles. Packing for each of these, without bringing the whole house with me, was interesting! In each place I learn a new set of greetings, make a new set of friends and then move on. Meanwhile, I miss out on the daily interactions of Ukarumpa life which hold together friendships there. I am thankful for my Bible study group who like to hear from me each week and email back their updates and prayer requests so that I am still connected.

Please don’t think I’m whining. I truly do enjoy the work I do and the privilege of helping so many language groups move forward in their work. I am just trying to paint a slightly more realistic picture of what life can be like. If it seems like my time at Ukarumpa is crazy busy… sometimes it is. If it seems like my time at Ukarumpa is ‘sindaun nating’… sometimes it is that too, as I catch up on weekends and rest that I could not have while away.

In the future I hope to find a translation partner and settle into long term work in a single language project. Then I will be able to learn the language properly and build lasting relationships. I will still come and go from Ukarumpa, but it will be to one place where I have an established base, rather than living out of my backpack. Until then, I will acknowledge the privilege I have in the varied work I do and willingly accept the challenges that go with that.

New Ireland Translation Institute

NITI group photo

On an island which has had a long Bible translator presence, the opportunity to work on dialect adaptations and new translations for most of the remaining languages has been taken and turned into NITI; New Ireland Translation Institute. Twice a year language groups gather at Sohun, half an hour south of Namatanai, for four weeks to work on their translation with the support of translation advisers and consultants, away from the demands of village life.

The short walk to work

Reng, as he is locally known, lived here in Sohun for many years, raising his family, learning to speak Patpatar and translating the New Testament. It is on the foundation of this work that NITI has continued. The team of ex-pats live in Reng’s house, extended to fit the extras. Across the road and a short distance up the hill, NITI surprises you from the jungle. A large grassed area is home to the dormitories, classrooms, kitchen and dining room where the work happens.

NITI grounds, classrooms and kitchen

Each morning we gathered for a time of worship and a devotion then split into language groups to work. Reng supervises five language teams of dialects related to Patpatar. In the same room Steven works with two other related languages on an adaptation from another New Ireland NT. Seven teams in one room, but it is a focussed working space. There are computers everywhere, but I think I most appreciated the electricity the generator provided for powering the fans. At almost 4⁰ south of the equator and right by the coast, it can get pretty hot and sweaty!

Working with the Hinsaal, under the fan.

My role this course was working with one of the teams, Hinsaal, as they entered final edits and corrections to the entire NT. Reng had given us a long list of things to think about and we slowly chipped away at them. My role was largely to assist with understanding concepts from the English and Greek texts using Tok Pisin.

As a trade language, Tok Pisin has a limited vocabulary and relies on talking in pictures to reach the point. Using this to explain the difference between ‘courage’ and ‘encourage’ is a challenge! It means talking a circle around the topic, then on the next lap getting closer to the meaning, doing as many laps as it takes to eventually reach the target of understanding. I pray a lot that the Spirit may make the meaning clear where I cannot.

Beachfront living!

Lunch we shared with the participants and dinner we usually ate at home. After a long and focused day, it was nice to not use Tok Pisin and to catch up with the rest of the team. Interesting conversations also arise when you put seven linguists around the table, four of whom have completed a NT translation and all except me who have worked in the field for over twenty years.

The other two around the table were Bernie and Sherm. I long ago learnt that the cook and the engineer are often more important than the captain of the ship and the same is true here. Bernie looks after all of us with food and love. Sherm keeps the place running smoothly. Together they allow us to focus on the work we are here for, rather than all the other things going on around the place.

It has been good to get back into a village setting, back into language work and to see in practice how another cluster project works… They work hard, that is how they work!

 Living beside the ocean, where the sound of waves breaking on the reef accompanies me to sleep each night and wakes me gently in the mornings, has also been good for my soul and is absolutely worth the humidity that comes with being coastal at this latitude.

Kavieng

Diesel guarding the gate.

After months of living in Ukarumpa, being back in a PNG town feels, smells and sounds different. I am secure behind our big gates and barbed wire topped fence and the neighbours behind theirs, but we spread into each other’s space in many other ways. With windows always open to catch any breath of breeze, we can hear and smell everything that is going on.

The mostly empty block next door has people coming and going all day. I hear the chain rattle as the gate is unlocked and relocked. Someone sits by the fence in the shade of an umbrella, selling buai and chatting to passersby. The naked toddler mostly plays happily, sometimes cries. I pick starfruit from the tree at the end of our veranda, as do the neighbours from their side of the fence.

Neighbourhood buai stall

Next to the empty yet populated block is a church. It is clean and well kept. Last night there was a gathering there, so I fell asleep to joyful and tuneful singing. Another night I fell asleep to a sermon…something I try not to do when actually in the church! They were not out late, I was in bed early. I struggle to sleep beyond sunrise here, so choose to go to bed early instead.

Patchwork houses

Across the road are the back of patchwork houses crowded around the edge of a property. At night I could see their fires and smell the burning rubbish. I see a lady cooking, a man going to wash, a string of clothing out to dry. Bananas and buai grow in the limited space available.

Behind us are some half built houses. It sounds like someone is working on them today. With the cut grass and pile of gravel it seems to be a project that is progressing, not one of the many abandoned half finished projects I see around the country.

Not far away are the shops. Each one has much the same inside it. Crackers, rice, sugar, tea, coffee, milk powder, flour, 2 min noodles, tinned fish, canned pork or beef, salt, msg…all the basics plus a few other things. If you see something you like, buy it while you can, as it may not be back for a very long time. These stores are often run by ‘Asians’ (Philipino, Indian, Chinese) who keep things running but there is a common bias against them. The fresh produce market is a bit further away and features lobster from K2 (A$1) each; a cheaper, fresher and tastier option that the tinned fish at the store.

Starfruit

Skinny dogs wander the streets. They are generally ignored, but should you hit one with your car, it suddenly becomes someone’s precious animal and compensation is demanded. The streets of Kavieng, like Alotau, are much cleaner than the Highlands towns I’ve been to recently. There the rubbish piles up, gets set on fire, but is never really cleared away. There is even less Buai spit on the streets here, although the trademark red splatters are still around. If this cleanliness is the product of a smaller population, different regulations or different cultures, I do not know.

In one empty block I saw kids kicking a football, Aussie Rules style. This was surprising, as the usual question is ‘Blues or Maroons?’…a question I did not know the meaning of the first time I heard it, and it refers to an Australian competition. Competitive sport never was my thing!

New houses over the back fence

The road out front is normal and pot holed. People cut across an empty lot to avoid the worst of the holes, but there is no smooth route. Most people travel by foot anyway, shaded by their umbrellas, carrying cargo on bilums hung from their heads.

It is good to be back in town, back in another slice of PNG. Each place has its own feel, which is what makes this the land of the unexpected. 

Flight to New Ireland

Yonki Dam overflowing

Aviation had had a challenging week. A MedEvac and waiting for a spare part from the US reduced the fleet of planes from three to one. The extra hours of flying to cover the schedule then pushed that one to its 100hr service sooner than planned, the same happening to the MedEvac plane, meaning a completely rewritten schedule and no planes at all on the Tuesday. By the time our flight was due Wednesday morning, we were pleased to have a plane and still be on the schedule.

Morning Clouds

My 6am pick up arrived at 5.30am, so I rushed about the house putting my last things together and feeding a surprised cat. I expect she tried the neighbours for second breakfast at her more usual feeding time. Out at aviation we weighed our cargo and ourselves, so that the pilot knew his loading and administration knew what to charge us. Also at aviation were those catching the flight to Port Moresby and connecting home to Australia for grandchildren and a conference, or home to the US for a few years to complete a Masters degree.

Morning Shadows

The others on my flight were my other neighbours (not the cat feeders) going out to their remote island to work on translation for six weeks. It looked like I might get to see their airstrip, as the loading was light enough for us to fly direct, depending on wind conditions. Once they land, they still have to find a dinghy to take them across to their actual village, but this is much more direct than the 12 hours on a boat from Kavieng that is the alternative.

We were surprised when the pilot-who lives across the road, a truly local flight- asked us to board early. There was a last minute rush on the toilets, as you just have to hold on after that. As we were flying over water we had the ditch-at-sea safety briefing, put our inflatable life jackets on and got settled into our seats. By this time the fog had settled again, not burnt off as the pilot earlier expected, so we waited another half hour before take off.

River beds old and new

Rising out of the valley the gardens grow smaller and smaller until they are just a wobbly checkerboard on the hillside. Ukarumpa stands out for being a western style town surrounded by villages. Neat roads and gardens, tin rooves all around. It rained heavily the night before we flew and this was evident in the rivers we flew over. They rushed along, white water capping the muddy brown, grasses on the banks bent with the flow. Yonki Dam in the next valley was so full that the overflow was white with water rushing down.

As the morning was still early, the low sun made the clouds shine and glimmer where they fringed the ridges and look like snow where they filled the valleys. Where the sun broke through to the ground, sharp shadows were cast along ridges and gulleys, making an already bold landscape even stronger.

Spot the villages

Deep gulllies and rippling canopies

Landslide scar

It did not take long and we were out of the Owen Stanley Range and above the Ramu valley. This strip of flat land seems so thin with ranges towering on either side. Looking to port I could see the neat grid of oil palm plantations. To starboard the clouds formed banks and waves. As we crossed the river it was clear that there had not been much rain on the Finisterre side of the valley as the rivers ran slowly, weaving a path through a wide but empty bed. Erosion along the riverbank showed where previous floods had worn away at the landscape. The volume of water that must flow at those times is fearsome. Such a flood recently took out a significant bridge with the boulders it pushed along so easily.

Pilot paperwork

Eye to eye with a mountain top

Over the Finisterre Range and the landscape is steep and dramatic once more. The windward slope of a mountain can be bare and eroding while the lee is thick with jungle. The ridge between the two is sharp. Although you cannot see the ground below, where locals know the hidden paths, the topography is revealed by the canopy, which reflects the gullies and rises. Villages perch in precarious locations, with deep gullies between neighbouring settlements.

Suddenly, the coast

On a plateau there is a bigger village, an airstrip, probably a school, maybe an aidpost. The plateau finishes in a cliff with a river far below. This is a changing landscape. Torrential rain, earthquakes and volcanoes are forever reshaping it. Water carves out deep gullies with waterfalls disappearing into their depths. I later see an enormous landslide, probably triggered by one of the many earthquakes in this region.

Nearing 11,000 ft above sea level, we look eye to eye with the top of a mountain that we pass. The pilot glances at his gauges and displays and returns to this paperwork. We are on track and the mountain is not a concern.

Changing coastlines

Cumulus Tower

Giant seaweed creek

Suddenly we have cleared the Finisterre Ranges and are over the Rai Coast, flat land forming a border between mountain and sea. Most of this is grassland, but in the gullies there is darker growth. From on high these streams leading to the sea look like enormous pieces of seaweed beached on the shore. The flatland shows where ancient coastlines lay. Whether falling seas or rising tectonic plates have caused the move I do not know. Both are possible.

Fluffy Icing

Smooth icing

Volcanic Icing

Over the water now we can see several small islands, probably volcanic. We go around a cumulus tower and find a small amount of turbulence, otherwise it is a smooth flight. The pilot has completed his calculations and tells us that we will go first to Kavieng, then he’ll take the Brownies on to their strip. I has hoped to see their area, but am not disappointed at less flying time.

Clouds gather around island mountain tops. Sometimes they are a smooth icing, other times a decorative fluff. One I thought was like a delicate veil was actually coming from the mountain, as a closer look revealed a volcano beneath. From this height, one of the volcanoes looked like an ant mound.

We are now properly over the water, with islands in sight, but not close enough to enjoy. We’ve also risen above 11,000ft and the pilot has put on his oxygen to ensure he stays alert. Passengers  don’t get extra oxygen, making this a good time to snuggle into my pillow and catch up on sleep from the early start. I wake when I feel the plane banking; I can see on the chart we’ve made the turn for New Ireland, so go back to snoozing.

Kavieng blue

Coral trim

I next wake when I feel the plan starting to descend. New Ireland lies long, low and skinny on the horizon. Islands below are trimmed with coral reefs; this is a known dive location. We circle Kavieng, fringed around the airport and the coast. The plane feels small, landing on a big tarmac and stopping across from the Air Niugini plane, but it has got us here, and that is big enough for me.

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Yad Meri

Part of life as an expat in PNG is negotiating the expectation that you will have house and/or garden help (haus meri and yad man/meri). Paying someone to do my housework or gardening for me does not come naturally. At home, to pay someone to do these things generally means you have a lot of money. Paying someone as the expat in a developing nation feels like neo-colonialism, something I generally want to avoid.

From a local perspective though, paying someone to do these tasks is a way of connecting with local people, supporting the local economy and sharing my comparative wealth with those around me. To not hire someone is seen as a very selfish act.

The house I am living in came with a highly recommended yad meri, Wamu. In the months I’ve been here, I have enjoyed getting to know her as we share lunch one day a week. It has been my primary time to practice speaking Tok Pisin and a good way to learn more about the Valley where we live. PNG culture is relationship based, so our sitting and chatting is an important part of the day. Yes, the power differential of employer-employee remains, but it is made less important over a cuppa.

I understand that in some countries, the help are people who you do not relate to, a lower class who work but are not known. That is certainly not the case here. I would truly struggle with having paid help in those circumstances. Rather, people are pleased to have work and be able to provide for their families. Here, I am slowly coming to terms with yard and house help as a part of life that also comes with a weekly hug.

As yard and garden help are all casual employees, their income is precarious in this transient community. As I value Wamu and do not want her to be suddenly without income, I find myself negotiating ways for her to still work when I am away by giving the shed keys to my neighbours. This is in return for having their shed and house keys while they were away recently and unlocking for their haus meri and yard man. I’ve also been looking after the keys for another friend who is away, another garden where Wamu works, to keep her with two days of employment in a week.

As we build a relationship, I am finding other small ways to support Wamu. When I want to buy a chicken for roasting, I try to purchase it from someone in her family. When I have some local craft I’d like to purchase to send home as a gift, I prefer to do so from Wamu. In these little ways I can support one person and her family a little more.

At this point I do not have house help. I live in a small house and can keep up with the housework myself. As it is generally known I don’t have a haus meri (this sort of detail really is generally known!) I often have local women angling for the job. Several of them are recommended by friends that they work for, but garden help is enough for now.

Wamu ensures that when I get home, the jungle has not reclaimed my yard and I ensure that Wamu goes home with pay to help support her family, and so it is that we can support each other.

Walk to Work

View across the valley from the front door.

I’ve been thinking to write a description of Ukarumpa for some time, but it is a town which defies description. Wikipedia and Lonely Planet each make an attempt, but it is incomplete. Discussions on our internal bulletin board show that I’m not the only one with this problem. I’ve been here four months, but those who’ve lived here years also struggle and disagree.

Instead of a general Ukarumpa description, I shall tell you about my walk to the office each day, as a window on this world.

The house I’m living in belongs to an Aussie couple who are home on furlough, so I have their house, cat, car and sewing machine for a year. The comings of goings of furlough, village trips, medical leave etc make this a very transient community. Every week there is a string of arrivals and departures. Overlapping furlough dates can mean you don’t see someone for two years.

This house shares a driveway with an Aussie-German couple. They met here a few years ago when they came as a single primary school teacher and an aircraft mechanic and recently returned with their two small children. It is fun to be Auntie Hanna to those kids, who are growing up tri-lingual in English, German and Tok Pisin and who love being picked up and spun around.

As I start down the hill to the office, my neighbours on the other side are a Finnish-Aussie couple. They met and married at Ukarumpa many years ago- their two kids are both high school age and are also at least tri-lingual as they may also know the local language of the village where their parents work. They are translators on a small island to the north of New Ireland. Planning village trips for them includes planning a dinghy ride of several hours and praying for good weather for the crossing. When the parents go to the village, the kids stay at the Children’s Home with other high school students and the house parents. It’s rumoured that some students like life in the children’s homes so much that they encourage their parents to go to the village more often. As a general rule, primary school aged kids go to the village with their parents and the school sends material for home schooling. High schoolers stay here and attend class.

Continuing downhill I pass another Aussie family who I lived next door to at Kangaroo Ground when I was studying to come here. Their kids are often playing on the swing waiting to leave for school when I pass. Morning hugs from the kids make a good start to the day. Ukarumpa’s ex-pat community is at least 75% US citizens, but somehow I’m living on Aussie Ave.

The next house is a Columbian-US family, with another Hanna(h). My name is much more common here at Ukarumpa than in Australia. Oddly, I’ve met four families where two of their children are Hanna(h) and Luke.

Round the corner and I need to watch my step. At the first bend the water has eaten away at the road and caused undulations full of loose gravel. At the next bend the mud is treacherously slippery and skiing lessons would be an advantage.

By the time I can look around me again, rather than on each step, I am passing the three units where three single translator ladies live. Well, where they live when not in their various parts of the country working on their various translation and literacy projects. There are many single women in this branch, working in almost every department and role. We have a social email network called ‘the crowd’ which has events at least weekly. Being single is not reason to be alone around here.

Continuing downhill I am usually passing and greeting many locals who work as yard and house help around town. More on that another day, but from an Aussie perspective having yard help has taken some getting used to.  

Guest house with housing downstairs.

As I continue to the office, there are homes on the right and the guest house on the left. The guest house accommodates short term visitors and provides them with meals. New guest house managers arrived last week, but are only here for three months before the next lot arrive. Downstairs from the guesthouse is housing. Here my friend Jude organises tenants, billing, maintenance etc. Many Ukarumpa houses are privately owned and many are branch owned, but housing has the spare key to all of them, in case we get locked out.

Continuing my downhill wander, I cut across the lawn below CTS- Computer and Technical Services. Often I am passing at the time of their morning devotion, so can enjoy the sound of mostly male voices singing together. CTS deal with all things computing, electrical and technical. They are very patient and helpful with all the computer issues that simply stress me out. Hidden in their various buildings are also people developing software to assist with translation and literacy.

At the end of the CTS building is the radio room. All village teams have a HF radio set up and listen in to a daily sched. A few times a week each team must check in. Although mobile coverage is rapidly increasing across the country, the radio is free for a chat and good for bulk communication. Of course, your chat is also bulk communication, as there in no real privacy on the radio waves. This is worth remembering if you need to come up on the medical sched with the doctor!

Translators' Cubicles and LCORE

The next building is part of LCORE, which stands for Language Collaboration Opportunities Resources and Encouragement, and is basically the academic help desk. LCORE helps with literacy, translation, exegesis, anthropology, language survey, scripture in use and more. They provide materials, run training and are a great place for a coffee and a chat. The first LCORE building I pass has seminar rooms and the technical library. There are multiple libraries around Ukarumpa. This one is primarily for linguistic and theological books and journals. The second LCORE building I pass has offices for each of the sub departments. Elsewhere is another LCORE building which deals with computer training, literacy materials and scripture typesetting.

Surrounding LCORE are lots of translator cubicles- small offices for translators to work in. Many translators bring their teams from the village to Ukarumpa to work as there are less distractions, so more work gets done. Other cubicles are national translators working on their own as their ex-pat advisor is currently out of country. Sometimes it is just the ex-pat working in a cubicle, as they focus better than when working from home. They are little offices, generally quiet, but a very industrious space.

Looking up at LCORE and the start of the long hike home.

Finally I have reached the Directors’ Office, where the project office is based. Another day I’ll walk you through my office building and further around Ukarumpa. The route I take to work only passes a portion of Ukarumpa, but by my estimate it is about the equivalent descent as 16 flights of stairs. The walk home I won’t describe, as it is the same route and with 16 flights of stairs to ascend at 1,500m above sea level, I have little breath left for talking.

International Women’s Day

I am honoured to share my birthday with International Women’s Day (Mar 8). All the posts on facebook and headlines in the news got me thinking about what it is to be a woman and about all my female friends. We defy any single description, except that we are women. When I think of my friends, they are many many things.

My girl friends are…

Pagan, atheist, agnostic and religious.

Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, Sikh, Hindu and Christian.

Evangelical, Liberal, Contemplative, Pentecostal and Christianarchist.

Mothers, wish-they-were mothers and plan-never-to-become mothers.

Daughters. Sisters.

Some are chefs, others are challenged by much more than 2 min noodles.

They head up large institutions, captain ships, engineer buildings.

They choose to be full time home mums.

They have doctorates in theology, linguistics, philosophy and sciences.

They lecture at university and write books.

They volunteer at local soup kitchens and teach sewing to refugees.

They quietly get on with helping those around them without acknowledgement or thanks.

They live with bi-polar and depression, but still they shine.

They  are psychiatrists, helping their sisters (and brothers too).

They have lived through war, refugee camps, migration, language learning and culture shock, but still they live with love and joy.

Many have grieved the loss of partner or child.

Others grieve not finding a partner or having a child.

Others never planned a child and have a different grief process when faced with their own pregnancy.

They are married, single, polyamorous, in-between and undefined.

They are heterosexual, homosexual and transsexual.

They have lived and worked on every continent except Antarctica (although a guy friend has done that).

They crochet, carve, sew, weld, rig ships and knit.

They sing opera, funk, shanties and praise songs.

Some are ordained, others trained and waiting for the opportunity to be ordained and yet others do not believe women should be ordained.

They are vegans, vegetarians and butchers.

They are drunks and teetotallers.

They teach literacy to refugees, village kids, adults and in regular schools.

They start medical services in Africa.

They hike jungles collecting linguistic data.

They are my friends who inspire, challenge, comfort and correct me.

They are so much more than any of these labels.

We do not always agree, but we are still friends.

We are no one definable thing, but we are women.

Happy (belated) International Women’s Day! To all the women in my life… you are wonderful. Do not be confined by labels, but be yourself to the fullness of who you are created to be. Bring love, joy and hope to those around you.