Episode 18 - Walkabout

As I lay my head down to sleep, the quiet mummer of chattering fills the dimly lit hut in which I am staying. I look up at the grass roof and know that above it there is nothing but sky which is peeked at through the small clearing in the jungle canopy. I am quite literally spending the night in the middle of the jungle. Childhood dream achieved. I still can’t quite believe that I am here. But I should probably explain how it is that I came to be here. Lukas’s Sister and Brother-in-law have come to stay with him for a few weeks and he wanted to give his brother-in-law, Johannes, a real taste of Papua New Guinea. So he drove deep into the remote villages until the road was barely passable anymore and asked around to see if he could find anyone who would be willing to act as a guide through some of the truly remote areas, and who could find a place to stay the night. He succeeded, arranged a date, and invited me to tag along.

Locals using our track to get goods to market

So at one o’clock on Friday we all met outside the local corner shop; Tocsi - the man Lukas met, Solo - Tocsi’s son (presumably not named after one of the greatest spacecraft pilots that the galaxy has ever seen, but I like to think that there’s a chance), Jethro – Tocsi’s relative and fellow guide for our trip, Lukas, Johannes, and myself. We walked to the nearby PMV (public motor vehicle) stop and after letting Tocsi work out which PMV we wanted, jumped into the back of an open top truck and we were on our way! Stood at the front we held on to the guard rail. I had a nice chat with one of the locals who I think thereafter felt responsible for my safety, so he held onto the rail one hand either side of me trapping my in a strange kind of bear hug. It was a lovely act of kindness to help keep me safe, but it did feel quite strange!

The road to the start of the walk

A couple of hours later we made it as far as the road went, and to the beginning of our walk. The pace was fast straight from the off. I could just keep up, but if I stopped to take a photo then I wouldn’t catch up unless they stopped for me. I was soon identified as the weak link in the group and the one who needed looking after, which I must admit hurt my pride a little. But, when I first arrived to PNG Michael warned me that this country has an ability to strip away all of a person’s pride, and it soon became apartment that Tocsi’s judgement was not misplaced. In my (now to be seen as mistaken) wisdom I decided to wear my hiking sandals as I knew there would be many river crossings. Whilst I did save much time going across rivers, they lacked grip on steeper parts of the tracks, and once they were muddy my feet moved around in them quite a lot so they now look like the surface of a strange planet! Despite being the only one with this superior grip in the river, I was also the only one to fall into the river. No trouble caused though – only a slight bruise to my ego and a temporarily broken phone (so I’m afraid there are no photo’s until Lukas sends me his) Tocsi kept suggesting that he should carry my bag for me, but I didn’t like the idea of someone else having to carry my bag for me. Or to put it another way, my pride got in the way.

A narrower part of the river

The path was very rarely wider than the length of my foot, and with the rain cutting out gullies in the path, sometimes narrower than the width of my foot. The path followed the river for the most part. Sometimes this meant that the path was a river. Other times it meant the river was the path. As well as going along the river, the path took us along rocky cliffs with sheer sides and dense jungle, so dense in parts that if you fell to the side it repelled you and threw you back on to the path. The path went up and down (but rarely ever flat), we scrambled up slopes, jumped off missing parts of path and walked along felled trees where there was no other path. It was great fun, probably my favourite kind of walking, but it is also very tiring. And I am, it turns out, not as fit as I thought.

The path is there somewhere...

As we carried on, I started not keep up with the pace and the others would have to stop more frequently to allow me to catch up. My calves started to cramp a little (which was disconcerting because my legs have never cramped up on a hike before) and I started to fall over, which was both embarrassing and frustrating. As the mist rolled in, the downhill path got slippier, my calves started to hurt more, I started to fall more often and dark started to set in, I realised as Tocsi offered to carry my bag once again, that this time I had to accept.

My Hero

This felt like a low. A humiliation. A defeat. But at the same time, I didn’t care anymore. Something more important was at stake. I didn’t want to slow my companions down any more. I wanted us to make it to our place of rest before it went dark. I just wanted to make it. I didn’t fall down any less. In fact I fell down more. A lot more. But that’s okay, I’m actually quite good at falling (anyone who’s ever been snowboarding with me will attest to that). And  I didn’t care if I fell any more (although I’ll confess to wondering how pathetic they must think I was, and could only hope that they’d give me credit for the fact that no matter how many times I fell down, I got back up again). I may have fell down more often, but I also sped up, fear of falling no longer slowed me down and I was often helped up or steadied by either one of the guides, or one of the lovely children who would seemingly appear and disappear from nowhere. One of the boys even cut a stick for me to help steady me. It actually did help a lot, although I felt like I was piloting a gondola and I suspect I looked like a very poor amateur downhill skier complete with dramatic falls and oohs and aahs from the crowd.

That's the path - behind us and to the right

But try as I might, spurred on zealously from this new freedom, night time waits for no man. Dark set in and we still had not made it. It had started to rain and my legs we’re periodically cramping up much worse than I have ever felt before (to the extent that all I could do was curl up into a ball and mumble). I had no idea how far away the house we were staying at was, nor how far I could walk, but I just had to pray and keep going. And that prayer felt slightly, like giving my bag to Tocsi, like this was my mess and my responsibility and I shouldn’t be giving it over to someone who hasn’t caused it and He wants to help, if only we’ll let Him. I also realised that I was four hours from the nearest road, and didn’t know how my legs would feel in the morning, but I couldn’t worry about that now, I’d have to face that tomorrow. It also brought home a very real truth for the people who live in this place. The nearest aid post is right back where we started our walk, so if someone gets sick then somehow they have to make the journey that I’m struggling on – whilst being unwell! And this path was not just used in emergencies. The village we were heading to grows coffee and they have to take it to Goroka to sell. That means making this journey and then the two hour PMV ride, whilst heavy laden with coffee! And this isn’t an unusual village, this is an everyday reality for many in PNG. With this reality check clearly in my mind, I got up and carried on.

Dark really is dark here

Eventually our torch light made out the outline of a small group of buildings. We had made it! Worn out and wet through, but we had made it! As I stepped into the small hut of the family who had very kindly agreed to let us stay with them for the night, my eyes were met by the glow of a roaring fire, the very sight of which warmed my heart. The house was is no bigger than a small sitting room with a raised area on two sides of the room for sleeping, with the fire on the floor. About twenty people (some from other houses) either stood or sat around the fire perched on the edge of the sleeping area. But I had no time to take any of this in before a small old lady had burst out of the smoke and wrapped her arms tightly around me drawing me into a hug. There are no words to express the joy that this brought to my soul. Except maybe to say that it made me want to cry. I was tired, wet, hungry and hurting. I had everything to gain from being here. She had nothing to gain from me being here, but she was just delighted that I had made it. I felt loved accepted and welcomed. I had hoped to find my needs of warmth shelter and food met, but I found much more. Although the former was very gratefully received too.

The crowd

We pulled out some supplies from our bags and the lady of the house cooked it for us. We sat around and talked and shared stories. We shared tea, and gave a couple of gifts to say thank you. And then we got ready for bed. Whilst every one watched us. I can’t say I’ve ever had such a large audience watch as I got changed before, but I guess that’s village life…

The view from our sleeping bags

As I close my eyes and go to sleep, I have a lot to reflect upon. How lucky I am to be in this place. To see the things I have seen today. To have heard the bird song and smelt the flowers. To be with this family that has shown us such loving kindness. To have made new friendships with Tocsi and Jethro and for the help they have given me in getting here. For all the day has brought, yes, but also much more. What life in a jungle village really means, both the hardships and the joys. About pride and how we let it get in the way. How we hide our weakness from other people (and sometimes ourselves and God) instead of letting people help. How I can get caught up in version of me that I’d like to be, or think other people think I ought to be instead of knowing who I truly am, both strengths and weakness and holding true to that so that I can be the best me there ever could be. How it’s okay to fall, and that God will catch us if we let Him. That we don’t have to be good at everything. That’s okay. We not expected to get life right all the time either. We are all learning, and there is only one teacher. We will make mistakes. We will fall down. A lot. But God wants to help us back up again. But the deepest thought of all is how impressive it is that Jesus walked so far in sandals!

TUNE IN ON WEDNESDAY FOR A MIDWEEK SPECIAL TO FIND OUT HOW THE JOURNEY ENDS AND WHETHER OR NOT I MAKE IT BACK ALIVE!*

*spoiler alert; there are no blogging facilities in the middle of the jungle…

Episode 17 - Let the games begin

The scene is filled with plumes of smoke as our protagonist stands victorious in the centre of the stage with the spoils of war in his hands. Now before you get carried away, this might not be quite what you imagine. For in this instance, the smoke is not caused by the burning of conquered territories, the spoils of war are not mounds of treasure, and the protagonist is not some muscly hero. No. Rather, the smoke is caused by rubbish being burnt on nearby fires (as fills much of Goroka), the spoils of war are two bunches of bananas, and the protagonist is, well, me.

The face of a hero if I ever saw one...

I don’t like shopping. I never have. I probably never will. But I do like games. And if there is one thing that could possibly make the weekly shop more entertaining, it would be turning into a game – something which Goroka market gets. Now I’m not talking about the kinda of game where you have to barter with every market seller to get your goods at a reasonable price, because I would do very badly at this. In fact, I suspect that I would end up paying more than the price we began with if this were the case. Fortunately the prices of everything in the market are clearly labelled, so that there can be no doubt what something costs. No, the game is; race around the market to get all of your shopping as quickly as possible whilst getting as little mud (or spat out beetle nut) on you as possible.

The arena!

This may sound simple, but it is made more difficult by the narrow paths through market, the occasional fords, and the mass of moving barricades that the market has installed just for the purposes of this game (normal people call these barricades “other shoppers”). Wheelbarrows and pigs will also be encountered upon on occasion. To add to the complexity, you start with only large notes, but the market sellers only have very limited change. This means careful choice must be made as to when to use which size of note, or you may incur a time penalty. This takes the form of the seller going to their friend on the other side of the market to get some more change. Small bonus points are gained for every greeting you are given. Larger bonus points are gained for every compliment you are given (yeah, that’s right, I’ve still got it). Furthermore, even larger bonus points are given for every joke exchanged with a market seller and every high five with a market seller’s child. Points are lost for every bad piece of produce selected and for items missed of the list. But the real prize is getting out of the market with your shopping for the week, and the real score is the size of the smile on your face.

The crowd goes wild as I enter the finishing straight!

Episode 16 and a half - Amendment

So on Monday, I made mention that I usually had go to up the radio mast when it was necessary because the rest of my team were afraid of heights. When I first mentioned him going up the radio mast soon after I first arrived, Deo gave a high pitched squeak and said no. Actually, what I think he said was nooooooooooooooo! But having noticed that I've been doing a lot of work up the mast recently, today he stepped up to the plate and offered to put the new antenna up for me. He spent most of the day up there today slaving away on the old wobbly radio mast while I lay on the ground below watching. I couldn't be more proud of him! Great work Deo!

That dot at the top is Deo - I promise!

Episode 16 - A day in the Life

I’m sat on my sofa listening to the sounds of the morning traffic and next doors cockerel out of my window. I sip my cup of tea and wonder what the day has in store for me. Now don’t get me wrong, I have a plan. I even have a carefully crafted scrum board above my desk listing all the things that we as a team need to achieve for the next two weeks. But with all of this in mind, there’s only one thing I know for sure about today – it won’t according to the plan. This is life after all, furthermore, this is life in the self-proclaimed land of the unexpected. Truth be told, I don’t mind this, in fact, I rather enjoy it, even if it does have its challenges. We start every morning with “Lotu”. Lotu directly translates as “worship”. It’s a period of half an hour where everyone who works at CRMF gets together and sings songs to God, reads the bible and prays together. It’s a great way to start the day and a real privilege to be able to do this in my work place. After that, those in my workshop gather around my desk (and the scrum board), and we quickly take it in turns to explain what we each of us did the previous day, what problems we encountered, and what we plan to do today.

The scrum board - a work of love

A lot of the work that happens in my workshop at CRMF falls into what we consider “normal” jobs. These include repairing electronics such as radio’s and solar lamps, as well as planning and also performing installations of solar and radio systems. A lot of what I do at CRMF is not what we consider “normal jobs”. My job is to make sure all of the work gets done. This means making sure all of my team know what needs to be done, and most importantly how to do it, and guiding them when they don’t. It also means that I get all the odd ball jobs that no-one else (sometimes including me) wants, or knows how to do. These include rewriting the solar training course and removing several old antennas from the radio mast. Wherever it is possible I do get the others involved with these too, as it is good training, although the later has been harder as all of my team seem to be afraid of heights…

I don't even know what a twin tub is, but sure I can fix it...

Finally there is the greatest enemy to fulfilling the plan. I call these “Bryans”. They are new and usually urgent jobs that no-one saw coming. I call them Bryans because it’s usually Bryan who brings them to my attention. I am the first line of defence against Bryans. Part of my job is to protect the rest of the team from them so that their plan seems relatively undisturbed. This means working out who best to allocate these jobs to given the work they already have, and then taking up the slack, which is almost always peculiar in form. This can range from hospital sterilisers to our housekeeping washing machine. Our work is very varied which keeps it fun and it’s never hard to see the value of doing each job, which keeps it fulfilling. We are very lucky to do what we do, even if we rarely know what that's going to be in advance. With that final passing thought, I finish my banana, down what’s left of my cuppa and close my bible. It’s time to stop wondering, and find out what the day holds.

Episode 15 - A good day to live

This week my good friend and colleague Ricky had a very serious asthma attack. So serious in fact, that he stopped breathing. Completely. One minute we were laughing and joking together, the next he’s being rushed to hospital. Now when I consider that last point, I realise how fortunate we are. You see unlike most of Papua New Guinea we have a hospital just five minutes down the road, If we had been in one of the remote villages or even just somewhere out of town, we would have been looking at hours or even days and Ricky would have been dead. But that was not our story and our good fortune did not end there. The four students who had come to CRMF to learn about solar and HF radio installation that week knew CPR, and were able to administer it straight away, otherwise Ricky might not have made even the five minutes to the hospital. But Ricky did make it to the hospital, yet even then the story was not over. The nurses who admitted Ricky did not know what to do for Ricky, and there were no doctors on site to help. Or were there?

Ricky and I digging a hole

Remember those four students who went with Ricky? Well they were all Doctors who served rural communities who had come to CRMF to learn technical skills to bring to those communities who wouldn't have access to any technical support otherwise. Once they explained who they were to the nurses, they started to take control and Ricky quickly got the medicine that he needed. With the quick response of the doctors and the prayers of everyone who knows Ricky, he made an exceptionally quick recovery and the next day I was already back to sharing the usual jokes and laughter with him. It really makes your head spin. How quickly things can fall apart, and how quickly they can come back together again. It has made us all stop and think. There is no doubt God was looking after Ricky and he receives all of our thanks and praises for that. It’s been a reminder to us all how fragile our lives are. It also reminds us how trustworthy He is, the one in whom all our lives rest.

The four Doctors (sounds like the name of a band...)

Episode 14 - Broadening Horizons

I always knew that when I moved to Papua New Guinea I would some crazy things. Things I wouldn’t do in England, and things that I didn’t expect I’d do. But now I have done something I truly thought I would never do, particularly in Papua New Guinea – I have joined a gym. Now before you conclude that I definitely must have gone crazy and call for me to be airlifted out of here, let me explain that I haven’t had a total character transplant. My motivation for joining is not that I have become fed up of my stick insect physique and want to become shaped like a bodybuilder, but rather one of brotherhood. Going to the gym is the number one activity for the folks at CRMF to do together and it feels good to spend that time together. More than that, in spite of myself, I have to say that actually going to the gym and working out (or gyming as I prefer to call it) is surprisingly fun! This is in large part down to the guys I go with, and the fact that getting exercise here can actually be quite difficult so finding a way to release my pent up physical energy feels good!

 

Those little dots in the centre of the picture are cyclists - I promise!

There are a few other fun forms of exercise which occasionally present themselves, this weekend was my first Papua New Guinea bike ride! The roads were mostly incredibly bumpy which meant that most of the time I could see two lots of the beautiful scenery. I have to admit I spent more time looking around than looking at the road, so that probably didn’t help! I was more out breath than I think I should have been, but I’ll blame it on the altitude! It was so good getting out on the tracks and stuck into the Papua New Guinean countryside, it’s so stunningly beautiful, I guess I must say that a lot, but it still takes my breath away (the steep incline helped with that too). We decided to turn around and back home by a small group of houses where a small group of people came out to talk to us and share stories. It was lovely talking to them (or mainly listening in my case as my Tok Pisin is good enough to understand what is going on, but not good enough to talk). As we were getting ready to leave a lovely lady gave me a bag (locally called a Bilum) and told me that if my Mum ever came to visit me I had to bring her there so that they could meet each other!

The turn around point