Postcards of Rampi

Sometimes I got the feeling all postcards are ‘photo shopped’. Blue skies, beautiful beaches and tropical islands: too good to be real? Now I’m not so sure anymore. Maybe they usually take those pictures in PNG.


In the horizon a canoe floats up and down. The waves break on the reef, where thousand of little islands pop up just outside the bay. Local villagers are fishing with bow and arrow. The ocean is deep blue, the water crystal clear. The coral offers a perfect environment for countless fish, lobsters, crayfish and other sea life. The trees on the shore reach into the water. Their branches offer a lot of diving opportunities for the kids.

This weekend we went to Rampi, a village at the north coast of Madang province. It is part of the introduction training for new volunteers. We stay at the family of Herman. The people are amazingly hospitable and friendly. Life is peaceful and quiet. There are no tribal wars here and all food grows automatically. Maybe as a result the people are more laidback than in the Highlands.


Saturday morning we walk through the gardens of Rampi. The village owns a large amount of land. Every family has got a big vegetable and sweet potato garden. Moreover, many have a plantation. Cash crops are coconuts, beetle nut and cocoa. Tradesmen from the highlands visit Rampi regularly.

I wonder again why we, as westerners bring development. The lifestyle of PNG goes back thousand of years. There is abundant food, rest and many problems people living in western countries are facing currently are absent. Health care is one of the fields in which PNG might need help. A little boy’s toe is three times its normal size. Hayley, an english physiotherapist cleans the toe as good as possible. A plastic bag, as an improvised shoe, must keep the foot clean. According to Hayley, the wound is that much neglected already, that she fears the whole toe will fall of soon. Despite all this, the little kid steps away on one foot without showing any tears!


We swim in the sea, we play soccer with the kids, we rest a lot and we practice our Pidgin.
As farewell party we have dinner together with lobster and fried whitefish. What an incredible meal! And what a fantastic weekend!

Holiday in Madang

Colourful fish is swimming underneath me. The waves are breaking on the coral coast. I missed the ocean last months. I’m back in Madang for the in-country orientation of VSO. Two weeks with sessions on culture, language, security, etc.

I realise, after two months of Simbu life, my perspective on PNG is changed quite a lot. Moreover I’ve found out that I already picked up quite well on culture, habits and language. Amazing, how fast human beings seem to adapt. The ICO for me is most of all a pleasant meet again with the VSO staff and the volunteers based in Madang.

Kundiawa meanwhile seems to stabilise a bit. Port Moresby have sent a manager who temporarily needs to get the public servants back on track again. At the same time the court appeal turned out in a victory of the old administrator. That means, all managers who were recently fired, can take office again. However, the governor seems to lobby in Port Moresby for the appointment of a new administrator. Someone who is independent and has no real past in Simbu.

I’ve discussed with my programme manager at VSO what to do. We have decided to wait another month to see what happens. If everything will sort out, I just stick to my placement. If not, Plan B is a transfer to another placement in PNG. Plan C? I’d rather not think about that yet.

Turbulence in Kundiawa town

I can feel the tension in Kundiawa. Tuesday morning there were riots. In PNG fighting is most of the time very volatile with bush knives and guns. Police shot in the air to stop the fights. The guards restrained the recently fired public servants from entering the office. More encouragement wasn’t necessary to get a big fight going.

I’m safe, but keep away from the office as much as possible. However, life in town just continues, like nothing ever happened. Tuesday afternoon I walked right through the dense crowd in front of the office to get to the bank. I had to, I’d ran out of cash. In the crowd I saw quite a lot familiar faces, but to avoid being catched up in a sudden fight, I walked straight on. The ‘wrong place, wrong time’ principle seems to match reality in PNG more than anywhere I have ever been.

Everybody is waiting for a decision from Port Moresby. Who will be acting provincial administrator? Two years already, the battle between Joe Bal and Joseph Kunda lasts. Most of the time it was a court battle. Unfortunately, it shifted to Kundiawa, to real life. Tension is rising, negative writing on Simbu in national newspapers increasing. Which private investor or international organisation would spend his money in Simbu? I would not, to be honest. The people of Simbu are the victims of these battle of power.

Thursday, the old and new people in charge at the province came to an temporary agreement. The governor, the recently fired managers and the newly appointed managers: it must have been a huge gathering indeed. The compromise is remarkable: Nobody is allowed to enter the office until a decision has been made in Port Moresby. That means no government services for some time. How much time? I have no clue. Only the department of education remains in office. They have to, the new school year is about to begin.

It can always be worse. In Kenya, all VSO volunteers have been evacuated due to the political unrest. Their safety can’t be guaranteed. What a huge difference and shift of mindset. From two years Kenya back to home. Hopefully for the people of Kenya and the volunteers, the violence won’t take as long as in Simbu!

An ordinary Monday morning

In front of me, I’ve got the Monday edition of the Post Courier. Papua New Guinea is one of the worst countries to do business. At least that is what the Worldbank concludes in a research of many developing countries. Even in comparison to African countries, PNG scores badly. One of the main reasons is corruption. Though a quit recent phenomenon, it is already deeply rooted in PNG society.

I turn the page. Business people of Kundiawa are fed up with the power blackouts, daily cut of water supply and the malfunctioning of telecommunication networks. The revived Chamber of Commerce invited a representative of state owned company Telikom to join last week’s meeting. Regrettably, no one showed up. The chairman of the Chamber told me last week, that cooperation between government and business in Simbu will be difficult, as long as government doesn’t provide basic services. Oops, that is almost the end to one of my project ideas for business development in Kundiawa.

Today or tomorrow there is a court case. The court will decide who will be acting provincial administrator until someone is appointed by the Prime Minister. Two weeks ago the residing administrator was ruled out by the same court. His appointment was not by the book and therefore illegal. The same week the former acting administrator forces his way into the office together with many of his followers. As a consequence, many public servants stay at home. Today he announced that he will replace most managers. My division head is among them. Instead, he assigned his own people in the top positions.

Despite all disturbances, I try to catch up with some people to discuss some projects. However, I don’t encounter many of them. Some are arranging school fees for their kids or are bringing them to school for the start of a new year. Others are still not working because of the chaotic situation. Only the manager of the department of ‘Community and youth development’ is in his office. He asks me to come back tomorrow, if the court has decided. Outside I find out his name is as well on the list of people who got sacked this morning.

I choose to go home. Again earlier as expected. It was a tough morning. Sadly enough, in Simbu this can happen any Monday morning. Still, I can’t get used to this ordinary turbulence. Let’s wait and see what tomorrow morning will bring.

Dancing in the dark

“You’re the first ‘waitman’ who comes out after dark in this street. I admire you.” The self declared street kids of Papuan Compound, my neighbourhood, are standing around me. Gordon, already quite drunk, praises me continuously. I’m getting a bit shy.

This last day of 2007 is quite unusual. It is already the second time the people of my neighbourhood comprehensively pronounce their appreciation. In the afternoon we gather for a mumu*. Joe, principal advisor ‘provincial affairs’, actively works on community development in his last days as public servant. Some weeks ago he arranged 10.000 Kina for three sport teams. A rugby team for the boys and two basketball teams, for boys and girls. The Boomtown Rats* will start in February. By far the longest inhabitant, I apply for the basketball team.

Following an old man, a real specialist, cutting the pig, we firstly watch one and a half hour to the food. Six inhabitants of Papuan Compound give a speech. The young people are ordered to abstain from alcohol and unsafe sex. One and all are asked to bring up the number of church visits. The card play addicts (almost everybody) are incited to trim down their addiction.

A specialist' job


Besides all commandments and interdictions, many people are thanked: the founders of the several clubs in the area, the organization of the mumu and the new resident of Papuan Compound. They wish me a warm welcome and extendedly praise and thank me for my attitude towards them. After this tribute, the time is there for my first speech in PNG. Suddenly, many people come nearer by. It seems that every body in the neighbourhood is listening to the words of the new guy, the ‘waitman’.

Sharing of the food


In PNG there is no tradition of counting down at 12 o’clock, celebrate each other afterwards and then go to your neighbours. At least not in my area. In some hotel bars there are parties, but the average Papuan cannot afford these. At night everybody gathers around a music installation in one of the gardens. When I arrive with Gordon and the other lads, the whole dance floor comes up to me to wish me a happy new year. Soon, I’m dancing in the mud. Though 2008 is very fresh, it feels like I’m jumped back into the nineties. The happy electronic music
Gordon and another guy want to link me to their sisters. They know I’m a single man. I keep it off. I don’t fancy a possible relationship in PNG, particularly not with a girl in my neighbourhood.

At half past three it starts raining. I decide to go home. What started with a special afternoon, ends with an unexpected party in the night. Contended, I fall asleep, my face covered with mud of the welcome ritual.


* Mumu is a traditional dish. Or actually a way to prepare the food. At celebrations a pig is slaughtered. After burning of the hairs, the pig is spread out over a layer of hot stones. This is covered with a layer of banana leaves. Above these leaves a lot of vegetables, corn and sweet potato are put down. By throwing water on the hot stones, all food steams ready in about one and a half hour.

* The Boomtown Rats got their name because of the doubtful honour that there are many rats in this area. Unfortunately I or more precisely, my packs of noodles, have found that out already.