What’s mine is yours…

The rain returned eventually, with the 

sweet sound of it pouring into my tank. (H.Schulz)

A constant struggle for me when living in the village is the different cultural expectations of ownership and stewardship. What belongs to me and what belongs to the group? What is to be used now and what is to be saved for later?

I have a wonderful neighbour and village brother who built my house, looks after it while I am away and is one of our translators. He recently named his newborn daughter after me. I am sure that I have some sort of responsibilities for my namesake, but have no idea what they might be. He himself is a generous person who often has other people living with him in his small house and who is often doing things for other people. It is this particular relationship, with its web of obligations that is the hardest for me to navigate.

What makes it even harder is that it is often the small things that leave me in a crisis, such as an umbrella or a bottle of water.

My umbrella was left in my storeroom when I went away. It was about the only thing not packed in a box because it was too long. When I returned, it was the only thing that had gone walkabout. It had been borrowed to give shade to my namesake while they went to fish camp. When they returned, I saw the umbrella in use, but it didn’t return to me. A week later, when I was walking somewhere in the middle of the day and needed it for shade, I asked about it. It was brought out of the house, broken and barely held together with string. It gave me the shade I needed, but it is useless as shelter from tropical downpours.

Why was I so upset about an umbrella? It was that my trust of things left in storage had been broken, that something I needed was not there when I needed it. My neighbour though, saw it as an appropriate use of an item doing nothing to meet a need for my namesake. My tension is that I can understand his reasoning, but still wish it had been left alone and was in one piece when I returned.

Another day I found myself annoyed at a request for a few litres of drinking water, and even more annoyed at myself for being annoyed.

At the time it was dry season. As this was first time in the village in January, it was hard to tell if it is a drier than usual dry season, but it seemed to be that way. Each morning and each afternoon there was a parade of people going along the path by my house to get drinking water from a bush well. The round trip seems to take them about 45 minutes. Meanwhile, my house has two 1000L rainwater tanks.

Before I came to the village, my neighbour had called asking for permission to clean out one of my tanks. We did not communicate clearly, and I thought that rain was falling more often to refill the tanks, so I said yes, as long as you leave me at least half a tank (500L). When I got to the village I found out that there has been little rain, so the tank was not refilling, but that everyone had very much enjoyed getting a container of water from my tank when it was cleaned, as well as from half of the second tank. I was left the half a tank as requested. This probably saved the village one day of walking into the bush for drinking water, maybe two.

My umbrella two years ago when it was new. (D.Petterson)

When I returned, my neighbour turned up asking for drinking water in bottles, and I was annoyed. Why?! I did not make the rain fall, I just caught it. I did not earn it, yet I was reluctant to share it. Part of it was knowing that half a tank will not go far if I’m providing water for a house of six or more people next door. Part of it was knowing that if my water runs out, someone else will be the one walking into the bush to get water for me. Part of it was just cultural annoyance that ‘my’ water should be assumed to be ‘their’ water from a different cultural perspective. A lot of it was annoyance at myself for being a scrooge about water, an essential ingredient for life.

My first week in the village, I was cautious with my tank, but still used it for washing etc, thinking rain would continue to fall like it had the day after I arrived. By week two we’d had little rain, my tank was much lower and I switched to washing with well water and only using my tank for drinking. I still had occasional requests for water, which I would help with, but was not getting regular requests. This seemed like a good balance for me.

Still, the question of what is mine, what I am keeping for later, what is communal, and what I am sharing with others, is an ongoing struggle. Coming from somewhere very individualistic when it comes to possessions, I am having many of my assumptions challenged, which is a good but difficult process.

Tablet

My tablet is in there somewhere (H.Schulz)

I am not an early adopter of new technology, but wait to see if it might be useful as well as fashionable. As I could not see much use to a tablet beyond a fancy photo album, I was unsure if I should buy one, but did so as people always want to see photos of where I live and work. it is true that I mostly use it as a fancy photo album, it has proven its worth in this respect, both in Australia and in the village.

When in Australia it is handy to be able to carry photos around so easily, and to throw in some videos for good measure. These can be videos I’ve taken in the village, or the carefully crafted ones promoting our work in Bible translation. Kids love to watch the videos on repeat, but adults enjoy them too. As a picture speaks a thousand words, this album of photos does more to describe my life and work than I could ever do using words. The pictures also prompt questions about aspects of life that I would not think to mention otherwise.

Just as the translation team was about to leave, it started pouring

 with rain, so we watched the Jesus Film on my tablet for an 

hour while waiting for the rain to pass. (H.Schulz)

In the village though, is where my tablet is proving its worth. Firstly there is the ease of using it to show portions of the Jesus Film as part of Bible studies. With a small speaker attached, I can share the film with a medium sized group before we spend time discussing what we have seen.

Sharing an album of photos of the Jesus Film dedication has been a huge hit this trip. Learning to swipe between pictures is never a problem and once I have the album open, I hand over my tablet and stand back and watch as a crowd gathers to enjoy the show. It is interesting to see what people do and don’t recognise, which pictures they stop at or not. A photo of the local mill and airstrip taken from the air confuses people as they do not recognise the view from above. Stretches of river, which to me all look the same, are quickly identified as to where they are. Small figures in distant canoes are also named, along with where they are from and how they are related. As with all people in the world, they pause for the familiar faces, and skip the strangers. Aba Robbie is a favourite with everyone, but their circuit minister is always skipped. Close ups that whiteskins comment on as beautiful portraits, are seen as a bit odd by locals.

It is remarkable how quickly
a crowd can gather! (H.Schulz)

While I was worried about having technological toys when very few locals do, the joy that the tablet has brought to many people has made it worth having. I’ve also been shown that I’m not the only one with technological toys, as one day I was charging a far more expensive tablet for my neighbour’s in-laws.

One side-effect of tablets is that kids expect every screen to be full of fun things and are a bit disappointed that my phone and computer seem so boring. When I go down to the riverside to check emails (the signal doesn’t reach my house) there will always be a kid or two who comes to stare hopefully at the screen. They soon wander off disappointed, or are called off by their parents. I’ve also learnt to say ‘Only words, no pictures’ to discourage them. Checking email is when I’m grateful for low literacy rates, as I can leave my phone beside me and not expect anyone to be  able to read small print, at a distance, upside down, in English, and so my emails remain private.

While I am not an early adapter to technology, the locals are. They enjoy using my tablet, seeing photos, taking photos if their phone is capable and at least one person has asked me to blue tooth some of the dedication photos to their phone. It is a reminder to me that the culture gap is not always as big as it might seem.

Staying healthy

Working in a remote location has many challenges, one of them being how to stay healthy. It is something I attack from many angles.

Local cuisine: fish

First there is the problem of dehydration. I work less than eight degrees from the equator, at sea level. Life is hot and sweaty, and I sweat a lot. This means I have to be constantly diligent about remaining hydrated. This is more than a question of drinking at least 3L of water a day, as salts become an issue with sweating. As I am aware of this, I add far more salt to my meals than I do elsewhere, plus I have vegemite with lunch every day. Vegemite is a tasty way to have my daily salt lick.

Also on the dietary front is the limited diet with not much fresh fruit. My friends who are doctors at the local hospital have commented to me on numerous occasions of the poor nutrition in the area and what that means for health. I bring with me a lot of my own food, which helps to combat this problem. I dehydrate fruit and meat to supplement my diet. I also take multi-vitamins to further boost my system. My favourite multi-vitamins are not synthetic, but are achieved by sprouting dried mung beans so that they are fresh, crunchy, yummy and nutritious snacks. Strengthening my system to help me fight disease and infection is particularly important in a remote location.

I am constantly aware of the possibility of infections and my distance from help. Australians will be familiar with the story of the asylum seeker who died from complications from an infected wound. For wounds to do this is a sad reality of life in a tropical developing country and is the reason I fight sources of infection however possible. I use hand sanitiser on a regular basis and attack any and all scratches and bites with tea tree ointment. The soap I use when I wash each day is anti-bacterial. Still, sometimes a bite will get infected and even with lots of careful wound cleaning and care, I am not winning. Then it is time to speak with a medical person, either at the local hospitals where my friends are, or via radio with our base in the Highlands, and attack with antibiotics instead.

 Local cuisine: sago

Bugs and the diseases they bring are another problem. At night I sleep under a mosquito net, when outside my net I wear some sort of insect repellent. Sometimes I burn mosquito coils or sandalwood incense sticks to drive the bugs out of the house, but as these things give me a headache I do it rarely. In wet season, when mosquitoes are more prolific, I take anti-malarials. During the dry season I give my body a break from those drugs. All year I travel with malaria rapid tests and a course of treatment drugs. The rapid tests have one major flaw: I’m not very good at hurting myself on purpose. It is a very good thing that self harm is not my strong point, until I need to prick my finger deeply enough to draw blood.

Getting enough rest is also part of staying healthy. Life on the coast is hot and exhausting. Having a siesta rather than pushing myself in the hottest part of the day helps me to remain well.

The biggest health challenge for my area is tuberculosis, or TB. It is everywhere and it is spreading. Although my doctor friends do their best, they are fighting a battle that is much bigger than them. Living in that environment and hearing the stories from the hospitals, it is something I actively seek to avoid. Having my own house gives me a big safety margin, as I am not breathing in others air all day. Having better nutrition and being generally healthy means I am less likely to succumb. Being alert to TB means that should it ever get hold of me, I would be likely to catch it early and treat it successfully. Still, I hope to never be in that situation.

Maintaining my physical health while in the village requires planning, vigilance and an acceptance that things do not always go to plan. It means being willing to recognise when I am unwell and to go for help. It means thanking God for the good health I have had so far.

PS As per usual, I left writing my blog until the last minute before I went to the village. I wrote enough posts for one-a-week for the first half of my time away, hoping that I'd write more in the village and be in a place with internet to post them before the second half of my stay. If my blog is quiet from now until late March, you know that did not happen!

Day two

It is day two back in the village and I am settling back into life here. Having my own house sure makes for a quieter life, which will hopefully give me the energy I need to really focus on language learning.

My day starts at 6.30am when I turn on the radio for the aviation sked (schedule). When the pilot had dropped me off the day before he had made a comment that alerted me to the fact they had the wrong airstrip booked for the Jesus Film dedication charter flight. I need to fix that in a hurry! Listening to the sked I find that indeed it is going to the wrong place. I thought we had changed that a few months ago. I radio in and request the change to be made. When I listen in the next morning, I am able to confirm that the request was followed through on.

7am and it is Wednesday, the regular sked is replaced with the Director’s sked. The Director of Language Programmes comes on the air to encourage us all and give us updates about the work going on in different places around the country. It is good to hear her voice as I eat my breakfast by the radio. After the Director’s sked we have the regular sked and I’m finally able to officially open my radio station… having already used it a few times! Monday and Thursday are my roll call days, when I call in to confirm that all is well. I can call in any day if I have a message to pass to someone (‘traffic’), but those are the days I must call in.

8am and I am outside greeting people whom I have not seen since I arrived the day before, and showing them the DVDs, SD cards, books and bookmarks I have brought with for the Jesus Film dedication. There is general excitement that the film really is done and here in their hands. I am told there is a meeting ‘at 11am, in two hours time’ about the dedication plans. Although 11am is three hours away, the ‘two hours’ is an indicator that the organiser really would like people to be on time.

8.30am and I’m nailing down the floor of my kitchen. The boards had been laid but never secured, and their wobbliness is annoying me. Armed with hammer and nails I set out to fix the problem. Soon enough someone turns up to do it for me and I hand over my hammer. I’m not sure if this is a gender thing, a help-the-white-person thing or something else, but I chose to hand over the tools rather than argue. A village carpenter also comes to fit out my kitchen with shelves, as until now it is just an open space.

People talk of ‘galley kitchens’ as if they are a real estate highlight. Having worked on ships, I disagree. My favourite definition of a galley was the cook who said she had got herself a job cooking ‘in a wardrobe full of pots and pans that move’. At 2m x 1.2m my kitchen has all the space of a galley, but the crockery is unlikely to attack me unawares. By then end of the day, my kitchen is tidily fitted out and has since proved itself most useful, but only big enough for one.

 The kitchen before… (H.Schulz)

While the kitchen is being built, I put together the two burner cast iron stove which I had brought with me. Hopefully the gas bottle arrives with the Jesus Film guests coming from Kapuna Hospital. There have been numerous plans made and remade about that bottle.

Having defeated the stove, but still having workmen in the house and it not yet being time for the meeting, I have to decide what to do next. First I review all my language learning flash cards. The vocabulary is slowly coming back to me, but it is going to take time and effort for me to both recover what I knew before and learn more. Flash cards done, I move on to reading a theology book. Reading books like this is professional development for me.  A plumbing book would probably be more practical as I set up my house, but theology is what I have available.

At 11am the committee chairman arrives and tells me he is going to go and inform the others that it is time to gather for the meeting. I do my preparation, by putting together supplies of mugs, hot water, tea, coffee, sugar, milk powder and crackers. All meetings go better with a cuppa and a snack. We probably started with the cuppas at about noon, with the meeting then going till 3pm. Most of the meeting was in Kope, with occasional changes to English when I needed to be included. Last minute details were finalised, prices of DVDs and SD cards were negotiated and a second round of cuppas consumed.

 …the kitchen after, including the gas bottle
(H.Schulz)

By the time we were done, the kitchen fit-out was done too. Wow! With basic tools, timber off-cuts and the nails that I provided, I have a lovely little kitchen. I packed all my things into it in no time and set to making curtains to cover the front of the shelves.

The kitchen got done efficiently under the handy excuse of ‘getting ready for visitors’, with my toilets next on the list to use that excuse. Indeed, by the time the day was done, the finishing touches (ventilation pipe) were put to my loos and I could commission them. The luxury of having an indoor toilet is not fully understood unless one has first slid through the mud and walked precarious walkways to reach one, or deliberately dehydrated in the afternoons just to avoid having to go after dark, when an escort is required to go with you. Now I can pee in comfort and privacy, day or night!

During the afternoon I head down to the riverbank to attempt to send and receive messages on my phone. With visitors coming in two days, communication with the outside world is a higher priority than usual. This time it is a case of win-some and lose-some, as some messages got out, but others refused to send. Sitting by the river, waiting for messages to send, I chatted with some village ladies. Apparently I’ve been away too long, as the kids are all scared of me again.

While sitting with the ladies, two pigs arrived in a canoe. They were exchanged for two good canoe-making logs and will be dinner for the dedication feast. One pig seems resigned to its fate, but the other protests with piercing squeals. The discussion turns to the size of the pigs and if they are a bit small for the logs exchanged and the people expected at the feast.

My solar control panel, for those of you
who like such things (H.Schulz)

I’m home before dark so that I can wash off a day’s sweat and dirt in time to put on fresh mosquito repellent before the twilight round of mossies attack. As the daylight fades I turn on my new LED light that is connected to my solar power system. The light is lovely, but it draws another round of bugs into the house. This includes beetles with poor navigation, who crash into things until they knock themselves to the ground and end up stuck on their backs with their legs waving in the air.

As I don’t yet have a gas bottle, dinner is cooked for me by my neighbour, who also boils hot water for me to put in my thermos and use at breakfast time. I’m looking forward to being my own cook from tomorrow!

The village quietens down for the night. Crickets and frogs are the main soundtrack, with the flapping of a bat or a kid in a distant house joining in at times. I sit in my chair (another luxury item) and enjoy the quiet after a busy day of preparing for ‘the programme’. I’ve done little language learning today, but it has been a good day for relationships.  Tomorrow the first visitors will arrive, and I am in bed by 9pm.

Lifestyle Gap

My village house.

My house is the fanciest house in the village.

I have indoor plumbing (one tap to put a bucket under), indoor toilets (composting), power (2x 95w solar panels) and I’m cooking with gas. Each of these items on its own makes my house fancy. Together they make my house the best in town.

Compared to Australia though, I am roughing it. Bucket showers with brackish well water (at least until the drought is over), just a few 12v plug points, no phone or internet, no oven, no fridge, no furniture… people go camping with more comforts than I’ve got!

My neighbour’s house.
He plans to rebuild soon

Lifestyle gaps are a strange thing. By Australian standards, my village house is little more than established camping. By village standards, I’m living in swamp luxury.

Village kitchen, sitting on the floor

 and using a fire in the tropical heat.

A village toilet

Negotiating being the one with so much is a challenge. It teaches me to be thankful for what I do have rather than focussing on what I don’t. It teaches me to be thoughtful about what I own and what I consume, as I do not want my wealth to be a barrier to relationships. It teaches me to be generous, as I am too egalitarian to be comfortable in my castle while others wish for one of their own.

My indoor bathroom with
wash place and toilet

My real lifestyle gap with my PNG village is that I can leave. I can go away from my fancy village house to an even fancier house in the Highlands. I can then go away from that house to Australia and my Highlands house seems simple in comparison.

My biggest challenge with lifestyle gaps in the last year has not been returning to Australia with its comforts and riches, but the day the medical ship was in my area. Being aboard the big air-conditioned ship, sipping a coffee and looking at the village through the deck to deck windows felt like I was watching my own life on a documentary. I can cope with Australia being Australian, but when a piece of Aus floats into my PNG neighbourhood, I feel the clash distinctly. The ship does good work and I’m glad it visits, but it forced me to face the uncomfortable reality of my lifestyle gap in a way that I prefer to compartmentalise. 

What if…?

Settling into one area has involved a whole new round of paperwork: contingency planning. This has meant sitting down and deliberately catastrophising about various situations, planning my response, writing it down, filing it with various people and promising to do my best to keep to it in a real emergency.

I am familiar with this approach, as in my previous work on sailing ships we did regular emergency drills. We had flow diagrams of responses and responsibilities. Fire drills on hot summer days were an excuse for a water fight, but we were ready should there be a real fire. Man overboard drills taught us things that meant we saved a life when the real thing occurred (a story for another day). Preparedness makes a big difference in an emergency.

So it is that I’ve been thinking through what I would do, what I need to always carry just-in-case (bandages for snake bite, locator beacon), what I would take with me if making an emergency exit and which direction I would go. I’ve purchased a 20L container for an emergency fuel supply. If I have fuel standing by it is easier to find a driver and a boat. Contact details for various organisations and individuals have been listed. Maps have been drawn and marked.

All of this in the hope that I never need to use it.

Still, stuff happens. We live in a broken world where the acts of individuals and of nature cause fear, injury and destruction. I do not expect to avoid my share in the harsh realities of life, but I do hope to be prepared when they strike. I hope this paperwork is next read when I review it in a few years time, not when it is called on in an emergency, but it is good to have thought things through and made a plan together with others.

I do work remotely, with many challenges, but I am not unprepared or unconnected. Please take comfort in this.

 

Contingency planning… cause life is not always smooth sailing.

Solar Power

What do the Amish, doomsday preppers, Bible translators,  4WD enthusiasts, round-the-world sailors and eco-warriors have in common?

An interest in living off the grid.

As I get organised to live in a remote village location, I have been gathering information and learning skills to make that life easier. I could just live like the locals, but then I would have no time to do the work I came to do. Subsistence living is a time consuming occupation. Instead, I look into ways to preserve food, produce familiar food from scratch, and power the equipment I need for my work. Along the way I have found myself on the websites of all the above categories, getting tips for off-grid living.

My most recent adventure in off-grid discovery has been in making decisions about what sort of solar set-up* I need. I’ve had a crash course in all sorts of specifics and technical details: panel sizes and types, battery sizes and types, solar controllers, wattage, amp hours, volts…

There are so many questions that helpful people ask but that sometimes leave me more confused. How much equipment do I have? How much power do they draw? What else am I likely to get? Will I want a 12v fridge? (probably not) Will I want a 12v fan? (sounds appealing) What is my budget? (limited). Argh!

I am thankful for the people who have helped me, explaining and re-explaining concepts to me, answering my questions and responding to my blank looks. They have sure helped me to make practical choices, and then they  took on responsibility for compiling the system.

When I fly to Gulf next, I will have with approximately 65kg of solar and radio equipment. I know the weight because I had to do an estimate for my aviation booking. This will give me 190w of power for a 100ah battery. It’s primary purpose is to run an HF radio with some LED lights for night as a positive side effect. Later I will also use it to power my computer, but for the moment my notebook is literally that, a notebook and a pen.

The Amish have not been much help in my solar quest, but when it comes to preserving foods, suggesting manual methods of doing commonly powered tasks and having catalogues of fun hand tools, they are the people to look up. I suspect it is not the Amish running these websites, but people marketing at the Amish and that they also provide paper catalogues for that market. I have been dealing with the more Amish side of village preparations, but solar had been the biggest challenge this time around.

*Others call it a ‘solar system’ but as I am harvesting the energy of the sun, not revolving around it in miniature, ‘solar set-up’ seems more appropriate. That said, I’m tempted to call my solar set-up ‘Pluto’, for although it is small and remote, it still deserves to be counted.

DIY…everything!

Living in the developing world with limited access to resources leads to a culture of do-it-yourself in every department. Here are some of the my common DIY projects…

Food

Our Christmas Tree

It has been said that here, we do scratch from scratch. The classic example of this my Gluten Free friend who made a cheese cake on a biscuit base, having first made the biscuits, having first made the flour for the biscuits. On a less ambitious scale, bread, yoghurt, spice mixes and a range of ethnic dishes are all made from raw ingredients. Any quick and easy freezer meal is because you took the time to cook in bulk and freeze things.

Celebrations

Decorations, invitations, special foods, party games… they are all limited by resources, as creativity does not seem to be in short supply. Kids’ parties are not fancy, but they are fun. Adult parties often revolve around food and re-gifting is acceptable as the gift supply is limited.

Christmas

Last year at Christmas I crocheted a variety of green wools that I then wove into the window security screen to become a Christmas tree. The nativity set was made with pegs and scrap fabric. Beth made a ginger bread house using a toaster oven and I cooked the fruit cake in a cast iron camp oven over coconut husk coals. Gifts given were handmade or recycled.

Fun

Games nights, movie nights, a bush dance… the only scheduled events are things you decide to plan, schedule and host. Going out to the movies is not an option, but we do know who has a good movie supply. Helping with home renovations, borrowing books from the community library, it is all DIY entertainment. Sometimes there is a coffee shop, but that is only because someone decided to run it.

Sewing

Previously a second hand quilt
cover, now kids clothing.

My favourite hobby is sewing, so DIY clothes are common. As good fabric is hard to come by, I often purchase second hand bed sheets or quilts and use them as my raw materials. I have taken the DIY of sewing a step further this year, but working on learning to draft my own patterns. Bedsheet + tape measure + paper and pencil + scissors + sewing machine = new fashion.

Others are into wood work, home renovations, quilting and all sorts of other DIY projects, but it is a common theme in all our lives. Living more simply than our home cultures is part of living in this place, but it can be fun.

To make DIY possible most of us invest in favourite tools. Mine is my sewing machine. Gluten free people have their grain mill. An electric drill is a good investment. A hand drill is a better one for a village situation where power is scarce. Hand crank sewing machines are readily available in shops for village use…although that is a challenge I am yet to try. I find myself eyeing off things in museums as appropriate technology for the life I live and getting ideas for things to try.

Dehydration

My work table, with supervisor and dehydrator

A glance around my house would tell you that I am getting ready to go somewhere. There are piles of things on the table needing returning to their owners. A pile of postcards is addressed and waiting for me to write on them and send them to Australia with a friend for posting. Things are piling up in various locations ready for packing. The dehydrator is humming away, with new contents every day or so.

Dehydration is part of life when working in villages. It is a process which allows me to take with extra nutrients and protein that may not be readily available where I am going. Dehydrated food has a long shelf life and weighs little. This means I can pack food for several weeks without worrying about refrigeration or paying for the weight to fly it about. 

Everything we fly here is charged by weight, including myself. At the hanger I step onto the scales and the aviation department writes down my body weight so that they can charge me per kg. My cargo suffers a similar fate, but takes it less personally. 

Today the dehydrator holds beans and carrots. These grow well in the Highlands but are not available where I’ll be going. Last week I put 2kg of mince through, ending up with a few small bags of crumbed meat at the end. The red meat options where I’ll be going is basically tinned corned beef, which I can only eat in small doses. I’m looking forward to fresh crab though!

One of the village packing piles,
including a life jacket for when
travelling on the water

 Last week I dehydrated strawberries, which made the house smell wonderful, and resulted in a super sweet snack. Highlands strawberries have a wonderful strong flavour already, but dehydrated that is intensified and half a strawberry is enough to blow your tastebuds away. A few pineapples went through as well, because three were ripe in the garden simultaneously, not because they won’t be available.

Another dehydrated goodie which is in the packing pile is mung beans. I buy these at the store already dried, then sprout them in the village to give me instant fresh vegetables. 

As a dehydrator is a standard tool for a village team, I was pleasantly surprised when someone donated theirs to me earlier this year. They were returning home to look after elderly parents, knew that I was new to the field and knew that I would need it. Since then I’ve been able to purchase another one second hand, allowing me to stack my original machine twice as high with the extra racks.

2kg mince, 3 pineapples,
a large tub of strawberries: 700g

The other dehydration village teams face is from not drinking enough. As I’m off to a lowlands area, I know that kulau (green coconut, for drinking) will be available, which is better than a sports drink and naturally pure. I’m also packing my Vegemite, to help balance my salt intake with my sweat output. 

So, the dehydrating and packing must continue. I write to-do lists, enjoy crossing things off, then start a new list. Boxes need to be filled, taped and labelled. By Dec 4 everything must be ready to go to the village with me or into storage, as I’m also moving out of this house, ready for the owners to return while I’m away.