When we
travel around I get lots of questions about what life is like in PNG. In
response, I usually give cursory descriptions of food or housing that probably
don’t communicate a whole lot to the asker. I’m not trying to be rude, but I
assume people are just being polite by feigning interest; I don’t want to tax
them with unnecessary details.
Before I
went to PNG the first time I remember getting so frustrated at the people who
had gone before me. I was curious about life there and wanting desperately to
better prepare myself, but every time I had a chance to talk to a veteran missionary
they seemed to not want to talk about it. Now I wonder if they were doing the
same thing I do by trying to spare me the details. I wanted details!
This post
is for anyone who has received a less than impressive answer from me about what
life is like in PNG. It’s still far from comprehensive, but it’s a start. I
have listed out the top six things I never thought would happen to me, but have
happened because of the life I chose. I’ll post three this week and three next
week.
6. I never thought I would fail at laundering
my clothes.
I’m a bit
of a neat freak. I got that from my beautiful mother. She kept our house
spotless and trained my sister and me to do the same. She didn’t limit herself
to the house, though; our clothes were in a state of readiness at all times. I
like to think of myself as being a fairly capable person that was given the
tendency to like life clean. Those two things combined gave me the impression
that I would never have trouble washing clothes. Then I went to PNG.
In town we
have access to a washing machine and line dry everything. It’s normally so
hot that clothes will dry very fast. I do have to add to my
loading/unloading/folding routine the ability to predict the weather, but it’s
doable. Out in the village it’s an entirely different story. I wash our clothes
in the creek with a bar of soap called Klina. It smells delicious and I do feel
quite clean when I’m done. However, there’s a method to wringing and beating
clothes on rocks when you’re cleaning them in a river that I just can’t get the
hang of. I got to the point where I would sneak out of our house and try to
make it to the washing spot when no one was around in order to avoid embarrassing
myself. The women never outright told me that I was a dirty person, but I knew
they thought it. Oh, I knew.
5. I never thought I would enjoy bathing in a
creek.
Hot showers
have become a luxury. As have temperature controlled rooms, mattresses, and
bathrooms inside the house (more on that next week). I have bathed in small
creeks, deltas, under pipes coming out of the side of a mountain, under
waterfalls, and in glorified mud pits. They are all surreal and mostly beautiful.
Just like washing clothes there’s a method to body washing that I haven’t
perfected, but I have learned to tie rope around my soap to keep it from taking
a trip down the river.
When we
visit our PNG family in their village, we wash in a small creek. They’re preferred
body washing method is to take a small bucket with them, sit in the water, and
use the bucket to dump water over their heads. I prefer to lie back in the
water so I know that every part of me is getting wet. For a good while they
tried to fix my method, but I held firm to it. Now they just laugh and say I’m “sleeping
in the water.” I do love a good shower, but I have come to enjoy bathing in the
outdoors.
4. I never thought I would eat crocodile and
sea turtle meat.
Yep. Done
and done. Eating crocodile isn’t all that impressive considering many Americans
enjoy a good alligator meal, but sea turtle meat? Brian tells me it was a cross
between fatty dark meat chicken and pork. I swallowed one tiny bite whole, so I
couldn’t really say. Being the committed carnivore in the family, I trust his
ability to describe meat.
There are
still a few delicacies out there that we haven’t encountered yet: sago grubs, dog,
cat... to name a few. It’s very regional, so you’ll find some Papua New Guineans
more than ready to eat dog while others get squeamish. I had one lady try to
convince me that in order to truly learn about PNG and be like them I needed to
eat cat. I told her that I would eat cat during a meal where she also ate cat.
I never had to eat cat. I will trust to my wily picky-eater abilities to
continue avoiding sago grubs, dogs, and cats. If that fails me, I married the
committed carnivore and whatever I can’t eat I can deftly plop on his plate!
Continued next week…
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