| As you roll down the highway, the sound of the trusty 3 litre diesel filling the cabin of your dual cab 4x4, you take in the scenery. Lush greens line the side of the road, breaking to reveal buildings battered by rain and sun 365 days per year, the once bright colours having quickly faded in the harsh environment. You glance down at the speedometer, seeing the needle hovering just below 80km/h; the sweet spot of maximum speed and least vibrations, the ever present wobble of the steering wheel a reminder of the brutality which all vehicles face on the stretches of road as yet untouched by The Chinese Railway. Earlier in the trip, you passed potholes deep enough to lose a front wheel in, and the traffic had often crossed into the other lane, or veered off the pavement, finding the verge to be a smoother ride than the pothole-ridden blacktop. |
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| Ahead of you, a white coaster bus with green trim belches thick black smoke across the road, and begins to pull away from the bus stop. The bus’ driver pays little heed to the traffic behind him, and you see a Landcruiser ute veer into the inside lane to avoid running into the backend of the coaster. The coaster bus surges forward, its driver wringing every little bit of power from the engine. Both the road, and the driver abuse this particular vehicle, filling it beyond capacity with passengers and getting from point to point in as short a time as possible, to maximise the earnings for the day. The Public Motor Vehicle crabwalks up the highway, so twisted on its chassis that it seems to have a front corner on the curb, and the opposite back corner touching the median strip, and a passenger’s face appears in an open window, spitting a slick of red from pursed lips, and adding to the collection of stains already on the newly finished highway. He sees your approach, and waves, smiling a smile which reveals a few stained teeth, and a lot of missing teeth, rotted away by the incessant consumption of buai. |
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| The place from where the PMV left is a sea of umbrellas and tent tops; a patch of mud and clay carved into the side of the road and transformed into a market. Already, the new day’s heat is beginning to dry out the puddles formed by the night’s rain. |
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| The brief glimpse of the market quickly gives way to hillside again; the view on your left filled with grass and trees rising from the sidewalk, while the view on your right falls away from the road and ends with a distant mountain reaching up into the clouds. Vendors along the roadside have stalls set up, peddling everything from boiled eggs, to woven mats, to Coca-Cola in front of their homes. |
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The diesel powerhouse continues its reliable beat, the steering wheel continues its wobble, and your 4x4 consumes the road as you reach the outskirts of town. Traffic ahead slows, as a dual lane highway meets roadwoaks, and two columns, opposed in direction, fight for the smoothest surface. Having arrived at this point after the early morning rush sees you delayed only a little, but you know that you cannot stay in town too late, or you will be slowed to a crawl for a full kilometre on the town side of the roadworks. On the town side of the roadworks, tarmac is swapped for concrete sections, and a rythmic thump is added to the beat of the 3 litre, and the wobbling wheel. You navigate a few roundabouts, for which the rules are dubious. You keep your eyes peeled, as it would not be the first, or even the the last, time that you were cut off by a vehicle turning right, while in the outside lane. You battle a host of PMVs, all fighting for a spot on the line to refill with passengers, and begin to search for a place to pull up onto the kerb. The outer lane is a mix of cars trying to park, trying to leave parking, and trying to merge with the traffic slowly moving past.
A spot found, you park, opening the door to find a puddle at your feet. You sling a woven bag over your shoulder, and clench your hand around your cash – small notes and coins, as you know that most vendors wont have change to break even a 20 Kina note. With mud at your feet, dodging puddles and men pushing wheelbarrows full of produce, you aim yourself towards the large metal structure – a shed with no walls – and soon find yourself in a press of people, weaving and dodging like the traffic you experienced earlier on the highway. Vendors call out to get your attention, each competing with his neighbour for a sale. As you walk through the stalls, fresh fruit and even vegetables are pressed into your hands, vendors refusing to take payment for their gift to you. The bag on your shoulder grows heavy with produce, the thin handles cutting into the flesh on your shoulder, and you are not quite certain how much you paid for, and how much was gifted to you. More than one vendor expressed thankfulness for the amount you purchased, by throwing in extra items. The sun beats down outside, and the mercury rises towards the high thirties. You make your way back to the car, wondering if you should stop and buy a coconut to drink, or a pineapple to eat. The bag cuts deep into your shoulder, and you decide against it.
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Reaching the car, you find that the mid-morning sun has erased all traces of cool which might have been left from the air conditioning. The oppressive heat sends rivulets of sweat down your back, as you wait for the air con to become effective in its cooling again. You put the 4x4 into reverse, and look for an opening in the outer lane, knowing that your shopping trip is only halfway done.
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| Notes: |
| Buai, also known as Betelnut, is chewed by some of the nationals, much like an American might chew tobacco. As I understand it, buai causes teeth to rot, but also numbs the mouth, which can be a vicious cycle. Also like tobacco, those who chew it spit constantly, but unlike tobacco’s black stain, they leave a bright red slick. |
| Cheree and myself don’t receive anywhere near as much free produce as our children do (although it does happen). I omitted children (and husbands/wives) from this little tale to increase the number of people who could relate, and possibly share in our experience vicariously. |
| The Main Market is our first stop on shopping day, followed by a a few Supermarkets which are closer to what you would find in Australia/Canada/America. |
| The depth of the potholes may or may not have been exaggerated for the sake of imagination. |
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| Other points: |
| The climate here lends itself to a slow paced life. If, as I did, you foolishly try to keep up with the locals, you may, as I did, find yourself wiped out on the floor for a day, too exhausted to function. How the locals manage to keep on keeping on, is a bit of a mystery to me. |
| Language is still a massive barrier. While some barriers can be broken by simple actions, the struggle to verbally communicate is often highlighted. Moreso for Cheree, who does not get even half the exposure I do. This is amplified even further for the children, who struggle to sit still for an hour of Church in our own tongue, let alone 2+ hours in a language they do not grasp yet. |
| The cultural norm of physical touch (grown men will hold hands with other men while they walk down the road), is a little confronting to those of us who are accustomed to keeping our own space, but also comforting as it shows our/my being accepted. |
| The workload truly does make it difficult to “keep my house in order”. Pray I find some semblance of balance. As one preacher puts it, “What does it matter if a man wins the whole world and loses his own family?” |
| Sometimes, much the same as in life in Australia, we can find ourselves in situations which prove difficult to navigate – or even to know which direction to begin to steer towards! Pray for wisdom, and for eyes to be lifted up to our Helper, rather than on the hurdles in our path. |
| The novelty factor is wearing out for our children, and this presents new challenges as they continue trying to find their niche. |
| Give thanks for the return of Julian and Shannel – from an “outside” perspective, the Reformed Ministries staff were getting a little snowed under, and the extra hands are precisely what are needed. Give thanks especially for Shannel’s health. |
| Our GM, just back from holiday, has been informed that it would be a miracle for his father to still be on this side of eternity, when Christmas comes around. While expected (I understand they said goodbye during their time away), Bob and Ann could do with some extra support in prayer. |
In general terms, Nikolas and Isaac have blitzed their school work, and are looking like they will run out of lessons before our shipping container arrives with the new books. While Cheree is worried about having to play catch-up, we are very thankful for God’s blessing over their schooling. Personally, I am also very thankful for my wife’s ability to teach and guide them through. To see (and hear!!!!) Isaac reading books, is testament to her ability.
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As I seek to get the most out of the hours in a day, Cheree faces the same struggle. For this reason, we are considering employing a “haus meri” a couple days of the week, which would alleviate some of the pressure on Cheree, as well as giving her, and the children, greater exposure to the language. One thing we are wrestling with on this, is the divide between the nationals and the whiteskins, with parallels to South Africa, which keep us from having complete peace with the idea.
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Every afternoon, the Reformed Ministries compound is filled with the sounds of children running around playing a million different games. We are thankful for how our children have slotted right in, and are included in as much as they would like.
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Madison has found two friends around her age here (both of them are also blond, which can be confusing when we look down on the tops of their heads and try to figure out which is which), is talking more, is playing games more, and is generally healthy and happy.
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Calvin is beginning to show an interest in learning to write, and is also forming sounds (in speech) which he previously couldn’t. He has found a friend in Ben, and both of them seem determined to blaze their own trail.
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Word is getting around, among the City Mission staff, and the young men, about the WiFi hotspot (BiblePress) I took with me. It is exciting to see it being used, and there are plans to collaborate with Reformed Ministries on content (finding any content in Tok Pisin is difficult, let alone finding Christian content), as well as the possible production of more units.
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| Above all, pray that no matter the challenge, we have the integrity to do what is right, and the comfort of remembering that Father is in control. |
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| In Christ, |
Dave, Cheree, Nikolas, Isaac, Calvin, and Madison.
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