Holiday Happiness

 People have asked me what I did on my holidays, so here is a list of things I enjoyed while in Australia:

• Family! It was good to have ordinary time with family, to just hang out and do normal things. This included Scrabble with Mum, cryptic crosswords with Dad, Lego with my godson, books, games, craft and tree climbing with nieces and nephews, family bbqs in the back yard, phone conversations with no delay… and more.

• Friends! I know I only caught up with a few of you, but it was grand to be able to do so. I am blessed with many friendships that can pick up where they left off, even after building lives in different places.

• The Beach! Walking on the beach, eating fish and chips by the beach, swimming in the ocean, breathing deep of salt air. These are all things which I no longer take for granted.

• Cafes! Hot chocolate, iced coffee, cappuccino, flat white, gelato or rich and wonderful cakes… all just an order away. Time with my journal or time with family or friends. Sitting there while someone else serves you good food and good drink. Warrnambool has a collection of wonderful cafes, and I made it to all my favourites… at least once.

• Anonymity! To walk down the street and have no one watching. To walk down the street at night if I chose to and for it to be safe.

• Public Transport! Hopping on a tram or a train and having it run reliably and safely was a pleasure. When in Melbourne I kept catching the tram into town, because I could. I wasn’t really doing vast amounts of shopping, but I was finding excuses to indulge in public transport and anonymity and safety on the street.

• Stone fruits! Cherries, apricots, plums, peaches, nectarines… as much as I love my fresh tropical fruits, being home in stone fruit season was very yummy.

• Smallgoods!  Cheeses, olives, salami, interesting breads, dips, nuts, dried figs… such a range of affordable and yummy options. Walking around Queen Vic Markets was like walking around a gourmet wonderland. It could only have been improved by being Central Market in Adelaide, where one gets gourmet goodness plus chance encounters with friends.


I know I may have gone a little overboard on the exclamation marks, but they really do express the delight these things are when I experience them once more. I used to take them for granted and consider them normal, but not anymore. My Mum experienced this first hand when she let me loose in a supermarket with permission to put things in the shopping trolley that I’d missed… and I managed to fill the trolley. Thanks Mum!

#100

My hundredth blog post and a new year… combined these give me reason to stop and reflect on where my journey has gone over the last few years.

When I started writing this blog I was in training to do Bible translation work. I was uncertain about where I’d be going, who I’d be working with and how to work all that out. Now I live in Papua New Guinea and am involved in involved in translation work. Yet still there are uncertainties.

For the last three years I’ve been an ‘itinerant linguist’ helping as needed in languages and projects across the country. I’ve been part of workshops in villages and regional centres. I’ve worked with one language at a time and in group settings. I’ve worked with a range of colleagues in a variety of situations. All that has been good experience. I’ve seen more of PNG than many people who have lived here far longer and participated in a breadth of approaches to translation and literacy work.

This year though, the plan is to finally settle into one region and one programme, to work alongside one language and build lasting relationships. It is an exciting step, one I’ve been working towards for a long time. It is a scary step, as I will be learning a language by immersion with few written resources to aid me. I feel like a student on summer holidays between primary and high school. For so long I’ve been looking forward to graduating to the next thing, but now that it is on the horizon, all the unknowns are intimidating.

In a little over two weeks I head to Gulf Province, to Ubuo village and to the Kope people for a short trip. This will be a time to shake hands with people, make plans, find out where I’ll be living and start the long, slow, tricky process of language learning (Kope is tonal!).  It will also be a time to reconnect with other friends in the region at Kapuna and Kikori hospitals and in Baimuru. In a remote region, all outsiders become friends on some level, regardless of the organisation you work with.

High school, here I come!

Spit Boy

It’s time I wrote a bit about the kids I meet in the places I visit. Their big white smiles in their dark faces always make me smile in response. That then sometimes causes a giggle-and-run as they’re awkward about the white woman noticing them. They’re back soon enough, to see what strange thing I’ll do next.

Kids, floral confetti and hand carved guitars in church
(I.Glissmann)

I’ve already mentioned the passionate singing of the kids in church on Djaul, but like all kids, they got bored during the long sermon. Some of them entertained themselves by carefully dismembering any flowers they could get hold of from the decorations. The result was floral confetti over the church floor, which was beautiful in its own way.

Often the kids around us are dealing with a mix of curiosity and caution. They want to know who we are and what we are up to, but if they’ve not been to town too often, may not be used to white people and are not quite sure if we’re to be trusted. I recognise that mix and try to be friendly without being scary.

On Djaul Island we must have succeeded in moving from foe to friend as the kids took to crowding around us. There was one particular pair of boys who took to watching our every move very closely. A little too closely much of the time. They enjoyed watching me type at the computer, with every little thing being new and of interest. They even enjoyed watching the blue circle go around and around!

Unfortunately one of the boys was practising chewing buai and developing his spitting skills. Spitting on Djaul is an art. There are few red blobs on the ground, but the entire mouth of spit is aerosolised into a cloud of red that dissipates into the air. I thought about practising with my mouth full of toothpaste one night, but expected it would end in a minty disaster, so left it to the experts.

This boy was still learning to spit well, but that did not stop him spitting all the time, even when right beside me. At one point he was even under the table where we were working and spitting there. I was not impressed. In fact, I was rather grossed out by the whole affair.

That night when my workmates and I were sharing time together in prayer, my prayer was for Spit Boy, that he might nurture his natural curiosity and use it to discover more of God’s glory…but please God, keep him at a safe distance until then! I believe in honesty in prayer, but this was apparently a little too honest for my workmates, as rather than an amen, we ended with a fit of giggles.

The next day, Spit Boy stayed at a safe distance all morning. After lunch he started to return to us, edging across a bench during one of the teaching sessions. Just when I was thinking ‘here we go again!’, he fell asleep, half on the bench and half off. An answer to prayer? I like to think so!

Suddenly sleepy Spit Boy (R.Drew)

Dedication

Love hearts...just what every phone tower needs!

To complete the echoes of one New Ireland trip in the next, we finished our time on Djaul Island with a dedication to attend. Last year Catherine and I were VIP guests and singing in the choir at the dedication of a fuel pump. This year, we were part of the crowd for the dedication of a phone tower.

We’d been warned early in the Sunday School workshop that the tower dedication was planned. Slowly we became aware of the fact that everyone was planning on attending and if we ran the workshop at the same time, we’d have few people in attendance. We got the message and adjusted our workshop plans to end a day early.

Among the earlier arrivals, we did a lot
of waiting as we watched shade be
planted among the bench seats.

Eventually the big day of the dedication came. We watched as the ambulance, packed to overflowing, ferried people to the dedication site. The beat up ute and the two tractors with trailers were also hard at work, carting people and food to the hill top. Eventually it was our turn to get a ride in the ambulance. We climbed in ready to play at sardines, but the VIP treatment meant that we were not to be crowded. We rode along with space to spare as others walked.

Arriving at the hilltop we were greeted by a shiny new phone tower, an open space in the jungle that the workmen had created and a LOT of decorations. The fence around the tower was decorated. A walkway for the ceremonial arrival was decorated. The stage built just for the day was decorated. Another shelter built for the day was piled with food for the eventual feast. A toilet built for the day was a blessing.

We were given seats in the shade, watched over by our host parents and left to watch the spectacle. It was nice to be the side show, not the centre of attention for a change, although when your skin glows, you are never out of the spotlight! Kulau (green coconut) was brought for us to drink and pomelo (a type of citrus) was given to us to eat.

Shade being brought in from the jungle.

Our island friends were aware that we whiteskins burn easily. We got encouraged into the shade, we got smiles of approval when we put up umbrellas for shade and we had shade brought to us. Actually, everyone was collecting shade. They did this by heading into the jungle with their bush knife, cutting branches off trees and then standing them up in the dirt around their seating as an immediate and temporary forest.  

Once settled in we waited for the VIPs. For over an hour we were told their helicopter would be landing in ten minutes, a story we would not believe until we could actually hear the aircraft. When they did arrive, the extent of the decorations became evident, as they had taken over the landing space and the helicopter had to divert to the local school oval. We did some more waiting as the ambulance went to collect them and bring them to the hilltop and the rather large waiting crowd.

The welcome party for the official VIPs

Their welcome was grand. The speeches were long. The kids doing a dance were cute. The string band was unique. The thunderstorm was building.

The string band played on hand carved instruments of unique tuning. We’d heard some of these instruments in church and I was impressed at the sound. My favourite was the instrument carved to look like the electric bass of a rock star.

Just as the speeches reached an end, the dignitaries were returning to their helicopter and the feast was being readied for serving, the thunderstorm struck. We’d seen the clouds building up and felt the wind front hit. We were surprised when the helicopter still took off in the middle of it. Then the rain came…sideways. There was little shelter for anyone except by huddling together and being shielded by the next person.

The gathered crowd listening to the string band.

In the middle of the downpour the ambulance returned to collect us. We piled in, dripping and laughing. The policeman who has been escorting the VIPs was still inside and was also wet and smiling. As we drove back to our house and dry clothes, we got caught behind one of the tractors. There are four vehicles on the whole island and we had a traffic jam with two of them! The tractor had a loaded trailer of people, all hiding under banana leaf umbrellas that dripped more water on their neighbours than gave shelter to the people under them. I wish I had a photo, but bouncing in a car in the rain while taking a photo of a tractor sliding on a muddy road in the rain is beyond my camera’s ability.

So it was that we finished our work time on Djaul. We were overtired before the dedication and wet and silly by the end of it. As one of the ten days of the workshop was given up for the tower dedication, the joke was that we had been decimated. If being decimated means spending a day hanging out with new friends and ending it with laughter, then it is not such a bad thing.

Djaul Island

Ready to depart for Djaul, which is just
visible on the horizon. (H.Schulz)

Our two weeks on Djaul Island were two weeks in a picture perfect corner of paradise! I’m not saying that everyone’s life on Djaul is perfect, as they have the same troubles as people anywhere, but that it is the sort of stunningly beautiful place that postcards and calendars are made of… the picture of paradise. My photos do not do it justice.

It was about a 50 minute dinghy ride from the mainland to Djaul. We travelled on a day with light winds and seas around half a metre, so it was a comfortable ride. The water was so clear that we could see the coral reefs beneath us that had to be navigated close to shore and could even see the fish in the water.

The coral is what eventually becomes the sand, so the beaches were bright white. When we had time to go snorkelling on Saturday, we got close and personal with the multitude of beautiful fish and the range of coral growth.

The beach on Djaul Island. It is whiter
when in direct sunlight. (I.Glissmann)

We also taste tested a range of the marine creatures, as we were served crab and (sadly) turtle as well as fish, fish and more fish during our time on Djaul. This was accompanied by sago, taro, rice, bananas and greens. Our daily intake of a kulau (green coconut) or two kept us from dehydrating in the humidity. The people provided so much food for us that we were joking that we’d have to increase our kg booking for the plane going home!

The daily feasting was just one part of the warm welcome we were given.

Catch of the day (I.Glissmann)

The day after we arrived we went to a big combined church service in a neighbouring village, riding there in our VIP transport, the ambulance. The songs, the handshakes, the flowers, the food… all of it made clear that we were very much welcome.

The church was packed, so the kids were all sitting on the floor at the front, with a supervisor to keep them in line. The supervisor had a big stick, not for hitting kids, but for poking them gently when they needed keeping in line, and to wake up the one kid who fell asleep during the extended prayer time. As we were sitting in the front row, we were closely watched by the children through the whole service, and nearly deafened by their strong and passionate singing.

Orchids. 

Our host parents while we were on Djaul were the Reverend and his wife. In the United Church system, this is a role of great responsibility and respect. Reverend James was responsible for the whole of the Djaul circuit, including the Pastors and Deacons also serving there. With him as our ‘waspapa’ (host father), we were being placed in a position of respect.

Djaul is a beautiful place, there is no doubt about that, but even more beautiful was the welcome that we were given. 

Tiang Sunday School Workshop II

The Tigak team working on their translation (H.Schulz)

This year’s trip to New Ireland echoed and expanded on my trip last year. Both times we followed up Tigak hymns with Tiang Sunday School materials. Last year we ran a Sunday School workshop on the main island of New Ireland. This year we went out to Djaul Island and ran the workshop in a Tiang village, Piliwa. We expanded the team as well as the workshop, going from two coordinators  to five and inviting all the villages on the island, which includes two Tigak villages. Not only did we do Sunday School materials production, but we also did teacher training for the Sunday School teachers. All in all it was a full but good time.

Our workshop venue (the
open sides catch the breeze nicely)
and our VIP transport- the ambulance
(H.Schulz)

Each morning we started our workshop with a devotion and a time of translation skills training. Each language community was working on translating a different book of Sunday School stories and activities. The Tigak were starting with Genesis and the Tiang were onto book 3, the Israelites in Canaan. We taught the skills to translate the material and then we put them into practice. Each language divided into smaller work groups that drafted, edited, back translated and checked their work. As workshop coordinators we circulated among the groups, helping as needed and doing all the typing as drafts were completed, edits readied for entering and the final product ready for formatting.

Each afternoon we would return from lunch with a time of teaching the teachers. Many of these teachers had had little training, so appreciated anything we could share with them. We taught using dramas and games, in both the morning and the afternoon sessions, and enjoyed seeing people catch on to new ideas and gain deeper understanding. In teaching games, everyone was involved. It was hilarious to see mature adults enjoying duck-duck-goose as much as any kids I’ve ever seen!

 Our amazing house! (R.Drew)

Over the course of two weeks, with about 40 Tiang and 7 Tigak attending the workshop every day, we completed the entire Tiang book and half the Tigak book. As we were at the far end of the island to where the Tigak live, there were fewer of them at the workshop and they’d done an amazing job of getting that much work done. Since then they’ve drafted the rest of the book and it waits to be seen when checking, editing and printing can be completed. The work that was completed during the workshop we already printed in Kavieng and should be back with the people by now.

The day we left the ambulance
was not available, so we all piled
onto the tractor’s trailer with our
cargo and rode to the beach
that way (S.Pederson)

Village workshops are always full of unknowns. Some things are normal, such as that the workshop will include at least one chicken, some flea-bitten puppies, a pig or two and some half naked toddlers. Other things, like the gift of a regulator from a Kavieng businessman and a reliably working village generator  are extra blessings. Then there is the entirely unexpected, like living in a new house that was fancier than almost any other village house I’ve seen, having a generator there at night and being transported about in the ambulance (one of only a few vehicles on the island- it was real VIP treatment)… these things are the icing on the cake! We were so very blessed by the people of Djaul, and hope that through our training we were also a blessing to them.

Workshop group photo (R.Drew)

In saying ‘yes’ to one place and one project I am by necessity saying ‘no’ to many other people and places. In saying ‘yes’ to working alone, I am effectively saying ‘no’ to the work partnerships that had been discussed. We are parting ways as friends and colleagues and the door is open to future team work options, but at this point it is ‘no’ to continuing to wait for others and ‘yes’ to going now and going alone.

Learning to say ‘no’ is as important as learning to say ‘yes’, and it takes discipline. In the world, and in the organisation  I work with, there are far more needs than there are hours in the day or workers in the field. Even when prioritised, there are often still more significant needs than available people…and ‘significant’ is a slippery term that each person measures differently.

Learning to hear someone else’s ‘no’ is as important as learning to say my own ‘no’. If I want people to respect my ‘no’ to their urgent priority, then I need to hear the ‘no’ of others to my urgent request. I hope that people respect that when I say ‘no’ it is because I have listened, reflected and decided. I do not say ‘no’ to cause pain, but because it seems the best path from the place in which I am making the decision. I hope that I return the respect when someone else’s ‘no’ is returned to me on a different matter at another time.

Learning to say ‘yes’ to things I don’t like but can see the value of and can make the time for is as important as being able to say ‘no’ to similar things. To balance the needs of others with my own, to sometimes do the unpleasant job that needs to be done, to take on the dull job that everyone is avoiding, to recognise that some things simply need doing if we want the whole to progress… I need to sometimes say ‘yes’, yet other times say ‘no’.

The spiritual discipline of ‘no’ and the spiritual discipline of ‘yes’. They are things that I am working on and things that I have had to practise a lot this year. I expect I will be a lifelong learner in this field, as saying ‘no’ or saying ‘yes’ is not always as easy as I would like.