First of all, I want to say that, in broad brush-strokes, I would probably would not recommend a trip to Papua New Guinea. While it is certainly one of the most fascinating and brilliant places I've ever been to, it's just too darned dangerous, especially for two white ladies traveling alone. That said, it is an absolutely dazzling place in certain respects. I suppose if one could join a bona-fide tour, it is worth considering, but I would certainly not endorse one going there alone. If one were intent upon going there, however, I would definitely recommend the trip to the Karawari Lodge. (But I must point out that, a few months after our return, a very well-known conservationist told me he'd nearly gotten killed in the Karawari whilst traveling down-river in a boat a few years ago, perhaps in 2003? ... a man on the shore began firing arrows at him for no apparent provocation. Turns out the arrow-slinger didn't like the boat-driver...) And though you won't find an itinerary to Lumi on any tourist trip, visiting Jim and Jean in Lumi (in the north of PNG, in the Torricelli mountains) was delightful, and reasonably safe. A bird-watching tour might be a good one, or something like a National Geographic tour. I would skip Port Moresby entirely, even if offered the (mandatory and absolutely necessary) armed guard to accompany me. Rachel on the other hand, feels that it would be fascinating to go along with a research team doing research in the forests in PNG, and she would consider returning there. But then, she's a graduate student in forestry, young, and perhaps a trifle mad. Although a dear, good soul nonetheless.
When I returned from PNG, I finished a book I had started prior to departure: an engaging little tome by Czech writer and biologist, Vojtech Novotny. In Notebooks from New Guinea: Fieldnotes of a Tropical Biologist, Dr. Novotny writes:
My trips to Papua New Guinea are for the most prosaic purpose of studying the ecology of tropical forests and I am definitely not one of those romantic souls who go there looking for adventure. Yet our researches are sometimes interrupted by having to assist in crises involving more or less serious injuries; I have become a dab hand at treating malaria in children and adults, I have been caught up in organizing the airborne evacuation of a seriously injured villager from the middle of the jungle or in resuscitating a woman after a failed suicide, I have escaped from an armed hold-up of a bus, I have chased away criminals trying to break into our station by waving a machete at them, and by the merest fluke I have avoided a plane crash; I have had to deal with a request from a criminal gang for help for one of its members who had been shot and seriously wounded by the police, and I have witnessed all manner of fights and acts of violence. In my ten years in New Guinea I have experienced rather more tense situations than in Bohemia, where over the same period I haven't even had my bike stolen. Although each and every one of my New Guinea incidents was more or less unpleasant and stressful, I'm not sure whether the absence of such predicaments might not, after a time, leave me with a sense of life not having been lived to the full.
About a month after our return, I did follow up with Jim and Jean by sending, as a "thank you" from me and from Rachel, two boxes of "care packages": everything I could think of that I could legally send them (alas, no alcoholic beverages or good-quality batteries, things that are very dear and hard to get in PNG) including spices, vast amounts of jerky (ahi tuna, spicy beef jerky, teriyaki jerky, etc.), lots of presents for their small son, Tadji (plastic dinosaurs and knights in shining armor galore, coloring books, stickers), cookies, dried fruits, candies, Indian food, anything I could think of that would help them add a little bit of foreign spice to their dinners, as well as plenty of treats for rainy and sometimes difficult days and nights. Jim reports that he received the boxes about 1 month after I sent them, but that customs had confiscated ALL the jerky, which was a shame, and a needless waste of perfectly delicious and non-insect-infested food. I'm sure that made Jim stamp his pretty little foot in frustration, as he ate with relish whatever spicy dried beef I still had in my luggage when we visited. And that the customs guys were full up on jerky the night my packages arrived. But Jim said Tadji loved the toys and dinosaur-themed books, and that they'll tuck some of the goodies away to give him for Christmas.
I also learned that an acquaintance, Nancy, went to PNG a few years ago (maybe in 2007 or 8), with her 3 teenaged sons, her husband, and her 80 year-old mother (!!!) Some of her stories bear repeating here. She said that they also visited Ambua, and while they did not have any interludes with raskols, they had an unpleasant situation upon landing. She recounted that it had rained heavily just prior to their landing in Tari, and when the plane landed it skidded on all the mud to an unceremonious and slightly askew, lurching stop. At that point, all the people who had been clinging to the fence rushed into the landing strip area and began to nick all the loot and baggage they could take with them. Nancy said her octogenarian mother was a bit freaked out and demanded to know, "where on earth have you brought me?" Miraculously, none of Nancy's family's luggage was stolen. On their way out of Papua New Guinea, they went on an art-buying expedition in Port Moresby. They hired an armed guard to accompany them to the showrooms for purchasing masks and other artworks, and escaped without incident, and all of their artwork actually arrived home by post some months later. (Note to self: save yourself the trouble and stock up on some nice PNG masks from eBay, which can be bought for reasonable prices from Australian re-sellers.)
Also upon return I spoke with my research scientist friend, Benjamin, who is a curator at a prestigious museum. He said he was in Port Moresby earlier in 2010, and narrowly escaped being raped by 3 thugs outside a bar. He said he was warned by another (unknown to him) black Papua New Guinean man that he was going to be raped outside a bar. His only recourse was to flee, down a night-time unlit dirt alley at the back of the bar, running at full tilt next to this man who he'd just met and who had warned him. He managed to get safely back to his hotel, but he was shaken by the experience.
After posting a review of Ambua Lodge on TripAdvisor.com, a British woman who had recently traveled to PNG wrote to me, and we struck up a dialogue on-line and exchanged a few photos. She said she did not have the raskol problem we did, but indicated a number of issues that came up for her or other traveling companions while in PNG. She recounted seeing a woman nearly beaten to death in that exact same bank where Rachel and I nervously changed money in Mt. Hagen, and also told a story of a Japanese couple she'd met on tour; they had been robbed on a bus, everything was taken from them, even their clothes! They were left in their underwear, absolutely terrified. And of course, she related the usual litany of multiple violent interludes recounted by others. I could go on and on and on about all the stories I've heard of problems in PNG, but you should by now have "gotten the picture." On the flip side, I will say that we met a few Christian missionaries who worked there, and they all seemed pretty blasé about the whole issue of violence in PNG. Many of them had been in PNG for over a decade.
Back in the relative safety of my home, I Googled "violence Papua New Guinea" and was rewarded with story after story of unpleasant happenings in this country. One of the statistics that sticks with me is that the reported incidence of domestic violence in PNG is 50%. That's what's reported... one can guess that the actual incidence is closer to 100%.
(Note regarding all of my posts: some names have been changed to protect the innocent.)
Friday, December 17, 2010
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