PNG plo yu

There are several things that make working in Papua New Guinea rewarding and frustrating at the same time. As I've noted over the past 3 months, few [Americans] know anything about the country, not even where it is on a map. This is my attempt at explaining why it (and in essence, the entire South Pacific, as many cultures are quite similar) has fascinated me, captivated me, and despite some frustrations, I hope to see again.

Almost 7 million people reside in PNG, roughly the amount of people living in NYC. Alright, that number of people spread over 180,000 square miles might not seem like a huge deal, but the majority of the country is dense tropical jungle and forest, and either unlivable or land disputes linger. Put that aside though, because the real problem lies in the completely dysfunctional political system. Since PNG gained its independence from Australia (peacefully) in 1975, not one prime minister has served an entire 5-year term, mainly because of survival issues, not political ones. The reason the political state is so wonked is due to the wantok system engrained in PNG culture. When born into a clan or village, or area where everyone speaks the same language (there are over 850 spoken here, leading to HUGE lapses in effective communication), you are born into a set of privileges and duties--the heaven and hell of PNG. As the Lonely Planet travel guide puts it, the wantok system (meaning one talk in Tok Pisin, literally like same language) is the social security system of PNG. Every person in the same wantok can be expected to be given a place to live and something to eat until he can get his feet on the ground. It is not uncommon for families to "adopt" their sister's or cousin's third or fourth child and raise them. On Karkar Island, one of my favorite pastimes was asking about familial situations. One of my best buds, Roy Ginigin, had told me he had two sons and one daughter at a meeting on afternoon. Upon visiting him at his home, tons of kids were about (as they generally are when the "white meris" come to call). Roy asked me to meet his sons and daughters, his pikininis, and his wife, Evelyn. There were like, 20 kids around. He noticed my bemusement and took a step back.

"Well, those ones are my brothers' sons, who call me Papa, and those over there are Evelyn's sisters' kids who call her Momma. It passes down on either side..."

...and trailed off due to confusion on the side of the informer and informee. This is where the hellish side of the wantok system can come into play.

In a country that lacks a lot of nationalism (most hail from their clan or village), wantok plagues politics and business, and made our work on Karkar very difficult to get done in the short amount of time we had available. Since most people are out to pledge allegience to their wantoks, it makes living alongside others who are not your wantoks hard. Just imagine what it does in a "democracy." There are 109 members of parliament in the PNG government, all of whom are from different wantoks (since each represents different provinces and districts) all of whom have their own agendas, making it near impossible for the government to reach any sort of consensus on anything. Aid money is pumped into the country in astounding rates, mostly by AUSAID, and while not proven, it has been thought that much of it goes "missing," or from the hands of one official straight into the hands of their wantoks.

Despite this, and the disappearance of many of our personal belongings, the people are more than lovely. While the initial feeling of acting as a television set for the children and young adults never really wears off, once you can start to convince them that you really aren't that different, you'll start to be treated like one of the locals. On Karkar, I was more or less adopted by the most adorable family and went out of my way to just hang out with them, make jokes, go to church, give and recieve gifts, you name it. In most meetings, the men are always trying to give us chairs to sit on (they seem to dig the western fascination with seating ourselves above the floor), but Debbie and Robin saw that Keng (their village) was now "me ples" (my village) and let me sit happily in the dirt right next to them, continuing to laugh because Emily and I were usually filthier than most of the kids who roll around in the volcanic sand all day long. The children are all angels, and absolutely glow when you sit down with them and paint their fingernails or invite them to the boat for an afternoon of back flips, and usually bring a bag of some sort of fruit or nuts along.

Last but certainly not least, PNG is nestled nicely in the coral triangle and is one of the most biologically diverse places in the entire world. The reefs are amazing, the foliage is amazing, the mountains are amazing...the scenery honestly looks out of a movie set. The biggest economic driver here is it's natural resources, cash crops (copra, coffee, cocoa) and mining, which leads to a big huge debate. I've been told it is sort of controversial to take a personal stance on it, so if anyone is interested I'll post the link to the Ramu Nickel Mine Watch blog here. It is super important to protect the biodiversity of the world's natural resources, especially in PNG where almost 80% of the population relies on it for their daily life.

I'm sure there's tons I have left out, but that is a little teaser for those who are interested in knowing more about this ridiculously diverse country.

Scrambling Time

One day past our planned date of departure; full schedules, new arrivals, worried parents, visa and insurance woes, "spring" cleaning, looming goodbyes, vaccinations, exams, packing lives onto a boat, and everything imaginable in between has been keeping us all more than busy, and given us the occasional headache or two. An incredible amount of logistics has to be sorted before leaving ground and heading out to sea for a half year, but each day that passes brings more excitement and good buzz about the journey and that weird and wonderful mix of both calm and calamity being at sea brings.

Once again, a lot of where I'll be over the next 6 months is going to depend on weather. We were set to depart from the harbor yesterday, but Mother Nature obviously had different plans...so now we are [not so] patiently waiting for the weather to turn so we can set sail and get the passage under our belt. Not that we have a lack of things to do...we will probably never be ready to go with all the preparation it takes to embark on a 6-month marine conservation trip. We could always have more reading glasses to give out to communities, more papers downloaded to read along the way, more goodies for snacking on when we are missing the delicacies of home...the list is honestly endless.
Above is a little map that might make it easier to see the basic route I'll be doing. We sail from the bottom right of the map (New Zealand) up to the green blob of Vanuatu, where we will spend a few weeks helping train some locals in SCUBA and get trained in Reef Check surveying methods. Then we are off to the Solomon Islands (the light purple blobs) and specifically the Reef Islands in time for my birthday! After spending the end of May, June and into July in the Solomons, we sail to the blue area, Papua New Guinea for the duration of the project. There, we pick up a couple of Aussie marine biologists from the University of Queensland for the duration of the trip. Once we've finished in PNG, we will head south to Australia (back again after only a year!) to return the boat to her owner in Sydney. From there I fly back to the states in November, and since time seems to have no manners and never pauses to check a speed limit, I'll be around before anyone realized I was gone for too long.

Anyway, my mind is in too many different places to focus on the ridiculous amounts of updating that needs to be done here, so I will leave with the link to the OceansWatch blog, which I am in charge of updating and will likely do so more than this blog.