Finding Strength

 As one of my (Nellicia's) friends said goodbye when we first moved to Balimo, she whispered, "Remember where your strength comes from and to use that strength to first take care of yourself." What she said stuck with me, but I assured myself that I wouldn't have any major difficulties with the move to the lowlands; and so, in our first month in Balimo, I forgot those words. I tried to do everything that needed to be done at the house while Brandon was flying. After a few weeks, the daily list of things to do started to seem more and more difficult to surmount -- laundry, windows, floors, bathroom, dishes, baking, changing diapers, toddler potty time, snack time, putting kids to bed, making dinner, showers and baths, tidying, reading stories, and the list goes on. All the while, the heat felt oppressive. The kids developed bad heat rash, and not long after our move we each took our turn with some virus or another. Bedtime never felt early enough, and even if we managed to get to bed early I went to sleep wondering how many hours of the night our little one would keep me up. I was overtired, stressed, and feeling exhausted rather than renewed each morning. 

I knew that this was not sustainable, but also that all of these "things" did need to be done. I remembered how much it helped me in the past to have a dedicated devotional time each day; something I had let slip when Ezra was born. An encouraging book called Draw Near to God came to mind as well, and with it a whole list of quotes about the importance of setting aside a quiet time with God. With all of these things in my head, my heart started to agree. Instead of begrudging Ezra's early wake-ups each morning, I used this time to read a devotion and study a short passage of Scripture. Within only a few days, the wisdom of James' letter started to ring truer than it ever had before: "Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you." My attitude, outlook, mood, and thoughts shifted much more noticeably than I thought to expect. Yes -- it is still hot. Yes -- there is still an endless list of things to do, and yes -- I am still sleep deprived. But I can start each day feeling fresh and renewed again, with a clear sense of my purpose and calling. Nobody said life would be easy or free of cares and concerns, but living with hearts directed upward keeps a light glowing. 

To ease some of the burden of the many day-to-day tasks that come with living in a harsh climate, we now  enjoy the help of a local lady for a few hours every two or three days. This has been such a great relief and has given me the flexibility to have an hour of downtime each afternoon while the kids nap, something that I am so grateful for! It has also been great to connect with and get to know Daxi -- she is my insight into local culture, my housecleaner, my babysitter, my Gogodala teacher, and someone to talk to all in one. I have really enjoyed taking time to sit down with her to learn Gogodala. While the focus seems to be on learning new words and phrases, I am realizing that the most important part for myself is the relationship that is developing. Some days, I learn one new word and try to use it in different ways. Other days, I try to read out of my Gogodala New Testament to her while she deciphers my mispronunciations and translates for me. As she teaches me what the Bible is saying in the guise of translating Gogodala, it opens up discussions about God, who He is, and how this applies to us in our everyday lives. "Lulila is light? So this is saying that God is light? And if it also says that we are to walk in the light, I guess that would mean that we have to walk in the light of God." These discussions are so simple, and yet so powerful. 

As we continued to have discussions like these and to read Scripture together, she started to express her desire to have a Gogodala Bible. Since Brandon sells Bibles at the airstrips he flies to, we were able to gift her a Bible and a pair of reading glasses before she took her Christmas break. Before coming to Papua New Guinea, it didn't occur to me how much people in other nations thirst for the Word of God, which is so easily accessible in Canada. Seeing Daxi's eyes light up (and nearly fill up) as she looked at her gift and expressed her gratitude was so humbling. The Word of God, and the hope that the Gospel conveys, is such a precious gift indeed!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Land of Dust or Mud

 "Enjoy the heat! Ah, you'll get used to it in no time. It will really start to grow on you. The mold too..." These words of farewell from a fellow pilot who had spent several years living in the lowlands of PNG were our final greeting before climbing into the plane. With our belongings packed in suitcases, totes, and cardboard boxes and stowed under a net, we were all ready to take off on the hour flight to our new home in Balimo. Nova was thrilled to be in an airplane again (she absolutely LOVES flying!), and Ezra seemed okay with the prospects of spending his first of many MAF flights on Mom's lap. 

Our first few days in Balimo were a blur of changes and activity, trying to juggle the demands of two small children with the task of unpacking and finding a place for our belongings. The strategy: first put everything in the correct room in boxes and totes, and then unpack the boxes one room at a time, starting with the rooms we spend the most time in! This seemed to work reasonably well (just Ezra's bedroom needs some attention), and we are all starting to feel at home. 

When we are busy running on overdrive and adrenaline, we can often judge the size of a transition by how much of an effect it has on our kids. Nova has been incredibly flexible with the countless changes and constant uncertainty in her life, but this last move was the most difficult for her. Even though we don't respond to the changes in the same way as a two year-old, reading her as a gauge also helps us to realize our probable stress levels. In times like these, it takes a bit more effort to be patient, a bit more effort to respond with grace, and a bit more effort to find time to relax together and develop our normal family routines -- but even though it takes more effort, we have found that it is so important to invest the energy in having happy children and a healthy family. 

As we settle into new routines and Brandon has returned to flying, we have both realized that life in Balimo is more tiring than any other stage in life we've met with so far. That's not to say we aren't enjoying it, of course; as we've said to each other, everything feels like "work," but it's the most fulfilling work we could ask for. With an average afternoon temperature in the mid-30s, and an average humidity of 80-90%, we are starting to get used to feeling hot and sticky all the time. 

When I (Brandon) started flying in PNG, with the rugged landscape and difficult airstrips, I couldn't quite imagine saying what I'm about to say: the flying part is usually the most relaxing part of my day. At several thousand feet, the air is cooler and I can just do what I do best. On the ground, my mind and body are in overdrive. After one flight in particular, I remember feeling exactly how physically demanding my work can be. I had just flown a lawnmower, fuel drum, and some other supplies to a village called Sesareme so that they could keep their airstrip in good enough shape for us to keep serving them. After unloading about 400 kilos of supplies in the heat of the tropical sun, I was drenched with sweat. With an empty plane, my work was not done: next, I put all of the seats back into the plane (from the storage pods below) to prepare for the health team waiting to head back to Balimo. They had spent the last week providing health care to the communities in and around Sesareme, and were ready to head back for a weekend in Balimo. As I took off and climbed to cooler temperatures (and my shirt started to dry a bit), I could finally settle into my seat to "relax" before my next stop in 12 minutes.

While some flights are physically taxing, others are an emotional and decision making test. I arrived in Balimo to pick up a load of passengers headed to Daru, the capital city of the Western Province. One was a worker with a large amount of tools and supplies to fix solar panels to provide better power; three people from World Vision were going to help at the hospital in Daru; a sick pregnant lady with a family member needed to get to the hospital (there is a hospital in Balimo, but no doctors); a student had to write his high school exams the next day, which are crucial for being able to enrol in the next year of schooling; and a lady involved with the Development Program we are partnered with in much of the work we do also needed to get to Daru. Each of them had a valid reason to be on my flight, but after looking at the numbers for my weight, I realized the flight was overbooked. Too much weight meant that someone (or some luggage) would have to stay behind. Once the passengers realized this, they started arguing with each other about why they needed to go. Together with the Balimo traffic officer, we approached the passengers to ask for a volunteer to stay behind today and take the next flight to Daru. As expected, nobody volunteered. I called the MAF Headquarters to ask what I should do. They suggested to check which passengers had booked a seat on the flight, and which had come without prebooking, and then to remove one of the walk-ons from the list. The only unbooked passenger was the student going to write his exams, and the traffic officer insisted he needed to be on the flight. Eventually, the situation was resolved and we were able to take off from Balimo. As Dr. Seuss would end the story: 'I had to decide but didn't know what to do -- what decision would be made if it was up to you?'

While each flight is fulfilling in a different way, some flights definitely stand out more than others. This week I was able to sell reading glasses and Bibles to local people at some of the airstrips I landed at. It is incredible how people living in the bush thirst for the Word of God -- they are always very excited to see me pull out my "Bible Box." I helped a few elderly people try on reading glasses to find the best prescription, trying to emphasize that a good prescription was more important than a fancy looking case, which only came with some of the glasses. 

On the ground, I (Nellicia) feel like my to-do list is always longer than the time left in a day. From washing laundry often so it doesn't sprout mold, to baking everything by hand and from scratch, to giving both kids daily (or sometimes twice daily) showers and baths to minimize heat rash, to putting kids to bed for naps (four for Ezra, one for Nova), to cooking meals big enough to host pilots for dinner who are spending the night in Balimo, it seems there isn't a chance to sit down and rest until after both kids are in bed and I've had a much needed shower. By that point, it feels like bedtime for me too! 

As a family, we are starting to settle into a rhythm that we hope will eventually allow for some more time to relax. We all enjoy sunset walks down the road in the cooler evening temperatures, and are starting to get to know some of the faces and names of passersby. We are excited for the many opportunities we know will exist for all of us in Balimo, and are looking forward to making this place our home! 

After just having a few days of heavy rain, I'll end with some of the pros and cons of rain in this 'Land of Dust or Mud':

Pro #1: It's much cooler outside! (only 26 degrees) -- but still warm enough to play in, of course!

Con #1: Flying is more difficult, and sometimes impossible

Pro #2: The toads come out, which are (apparently) very fun to chase, and there are lots of puddles to jump in and mud to play with

Con #2: Our hot water, which is solar heated, disappears quickly

Pro #3: For everyone who relies on rain water to drink, they don't have to worry about tanks and buckets going empty

Con #3: The humidity is 100%, and everything is at risk of going moldy (yes, I really mean everything)

Pro #4: The sound of rain on a tin roof is one of our new favourites

Home in Hagen

With all three of our suitcases packed to the absolute maximum in terms of weight and space, we were excited for the journey back to PNG; at the same time, I was really not excited for the journey. After all, who could really be excited to travel halfway around the globe with a two year old and a two month old? Despite my trepidation about how a 15 hour flight (and then four more hours of flying the next day) and multiple treks across airports with more luggage than four hands could hold would go, we reached Mount Hagen safely with both kids and all of our luggage still intact. The kids did much better than we could have ever expected, as per usual! Both of them slept for about 11 hours on the long haul flight, and aside from being a bit cranky while waiting in long lines, they were travelling superstars. 

As we drove the short drive from the airport to what has been our home for the past year, we were met with an overwhelming sense of familiarity. I never expected the erratic driving, bumpy roads, and other things that once shocked us to seem so normal -- I guess it is amazing what we get used to with a little bit of time. We stepped into our house and felt like we were home, and started to settle in again quickly. The compound welcomed us with a lovely bungkai (literally, food meeting), where it was good to reconnect with our neighbours again. Nova remembered the place and the people, and after a little bit of time to overcome her shyness she was back to following the compound gardener around with her little plastic shovel, picking strawberries from the neighbour's garden, and playing with her compound friends. Ezra has been a happy little boy after adjusting to the time change, and everyone is over the moon to see a baby in town (babysitting offers are not hard to find)!

Compound bungkai in the "haus win" (wind house)

Even though it has been good to be back in Mount Hagen, we are trying to keep ourselves from settling too much. 97% of our belongings are packed into plastic totes, cardboard boxes, and suitcases, and we are hoping to keep it that way for the next week. We've done a lot of shopping -- which has also been packed into cardboard boxes -- and are living like we're camping in our own home. We are hoping to start settling and unpacking again next Friday, since it is the day we've been waiting for since we arrived in PNG: Moving to Balimo Day!

 

Patiently Waiting

As our time in Canada draws to what we originally thought would be a close, we are still patiently waiting for all of the paperwork needed to take Ezra with us to Papua New Guinea. Everything has gone slower than we originally expected, which means we have already delayed our flights by two weeks. We are hopeful that we won't have to change them again, which seems promising since we just heard that the immigration office gave a deadline for processing Ezra's visa about a week from now! We will continue to pray that everything comes through in time for us to leave Canada in three weeks. It is time to start ordering the last things we need, buying the last pieces of clothing for the kids, and start weighing everything to make sure it will fit in three suitcases! 

As we start to mentally prepare for a new beginning in PNG again, here is another section from one of our presentation which reflects on our first beginning in the country:

Our senses are overwhelmed with new sights, sounds, and smells when we arrive in PNG after more than 20 hours of flying. We notice all of the beautiful flowers that naturally grow in the tropical climate contrasted with the dusty, bumpy streets littered with trash. We feel many eyes as we walk down the streets, with many calling out "Morning! Good day! Baby! Baby!" We are extra cautious about protecting our belongings as we navigate our way through the crowds lining the streets, especially when ladies come up to squeeze our baby's cheeks or shake her hand or even try to pick her up. Going to the market is an exciting experience, though we still have a lot to learn. When we soak our vegetables in salt water, we are usually greeted with swarms of earwigs, worms, and other bugs who are desperately trying to escape the salt water. "Brandon! There's one there! On the wall! On the cupboard! Up by the ceiling!" Shopping is one long math game as we try to get quicker at mental calculations: "34 kina is how many dollars? Is this really expensive, or a normal price?" Driving requires our utmost attention as we get used to not only driving on the other side of the road, but also to the people who cross anytime and anywhere and the vehicles that drive a wide range of speeds -- and sometimes stop with no warning. 

In those first few days, our senses were in overdrive. Everything was new, everything was different, and we realized that we had a lot to learn.

Ezra

 We were blessed with a healthy baby boy last week! Ezra John was born on July 19th, and we have all been spending the past 10 days adjusting to life with a newborn in the house. Since he was born just over a week later than his due date, Ezra's arrival also meant we needed to start his paperwork process as soon as possible. We applied for his birth certificate the same day that he was born, and spent some time yesterday morning getting a passport photo taken. Eyes must be open, mouth closed -- that in itself is a difficult task. Next step: no hands on the picture (ours or his), and he needs to be held up in front of the white screen. And to top it all off, he should be (at least sort of) looking at the camera. Thankfully, we had a patient camera man and got a photo that they think will be approved! It's amazing how even a newborn can look like a criminal...

While we wait for a birth certificate, passport, and visa, we will continue to share brief updates together with a short excerpt of what we shared in our presentation.

I have been privileged to spend most of my flying time serving one of the most isolated and remote areas of Papua New Guinea. The Western Province is one of the largest and most inaccessible regions in PNG — with vast flatlands covered in river systems. Villages are dotted along the streams and rivers across the province, but the province lacks the infrastructure or transport options needed for its people to access healthcare or education. 

 

In lowland areas like the Western Province, it is exceptionally hot and humid. This, combined with a clay-like soil, makes it very difficult to grow many crops. Malnutrition is a common problem, as well as other health concerns including acute malaria. In some areas, water has been polluted due to improper treatment of mining wastes in the mountains to the north. If any area of the country needs healing, in all senses of the word, the Western Province is one of them. 

 

Healing processes have been started in this area through a partnership between MAF and another program known as the SDP, or Sustainable Development Program. Most of my flying has been and will be in this area, working with the program’s Aerial Health Patrol teams. 

 

Each Monday and Tuesday, we transport several health teams to a remote village in the province, where they stay for one or two weeks to provide much needed health services. During these patrols, the health workers see many patients (and sometimes call MAF for medical evacuations if they don’t have supplies or equipment to treat the patient), give lessons to the community on hygiene and personal practices that promote good health, and begin training a community health worker. 

 

Once their time in a particular village is complete, we will return to the nearest airstrip to transport them back to their base in Balimo, where they will prepare for their next patrol the next week. These dedicated health workers spend six weeks in the bush and then spend two weeks with their family before heading out for six more weeks of patrols. 

 

Without MAF flying 10 teams into approximately 40 airstrips in the Western Province, many people would not be reached. The teams would have to make long, dangerous trips by canoe and walking to reach each village — spending more time travelling than treating and teaching. Through our partnership, more people than ever are being reached and more villages are seeing a start to the healing that they have needed for so long. 

A Cucumber and Two Carrots

     As promised in our last blog post, here is another story that we shared in one of our presentations:

    I exit the supermarket with my senses overloaded: One hand pushing a grocery cart, one hand holding Nova’s, one hand carrying my car keys, and one hand double checking to make sure none of my valuables are in sight. One eye looking to see who is around me, one eye checking for vehicles backing up or driving in, one eye making sure I am actually still holding Nova’s hand (and seeing that she’s getting her cheeks pinched yet again), and one eye noticing the faithful basket seller approaching me. One ear hearing, “Morning, whitie!” One ear hearing, “Nice baby!” and one ear hearing, “Come look! You like these baskets?” I tell the basket seller that his baskets are very nice, but that I can’t buy one today, then fasten Nova into her carseat before unloading my cart. 

    With the cart quickly unloaded and car doors shut, I have a decision to make: do I leave Nova in the car while I return my shopping cart, or do I take her out again? Thankfully, a guard approaches and offers to take my cart back for me. I jump into the driver seat and get ready to drive home. Just as I close my door, a young boy approaches my window, holding a stack of newspapers. I can’t hear what he is saying, so roll down my window just enough to say, “Sorry, I don’t need a newspaper today!” Before I can roll the window back up, he responds: “No... I’m hungry.”

    I look at the blazing noon-day sun, and ask, “Where’s your family?” *shrug* “Why are you not in school?” *shrug* “Have you eaten anything today?” *head shake* Looking into my back seat, I see my market bag from the stop I made at the market before getting groceries. I pull out a cucumber and two carrots and pass them through the window before leaving – less than a dollar for me, but his face lights up with a shy “Thank you.” Rolling my window up again, I leave the parking lot with a view in the mirror of the newspaper boy sitting on a curb eating his carrot. 

Back in Canada

   After travelling across the world once again, we have taken our time settling into a temporary routine in Canada. Our first weeks back were spent preparing for and sharing a few presentations as well as reacquainting with grandparents, parents, siblings, cousins, and aunts and uncles. Nova is thoroughly enjoying all of the attention she receives from family! 
   As we continue to anticipate the arrival of our little one and then take some time to adjust and get ready for our return to PNG, D.V, we expect the days and weeks remaining in Canada to fly by quickly. It has been great to have a chance to reconnect with family and friends, but at the same time we are excited for the steps lying ahead of us.

 
   Over the course of the next weeks, we plan to share some of the stories that we shared during our presentations (with only brief family updates). These are all stories that show different aspects of our life in PNG in the first 10 months that we were in country:

   While working in Balimo, situated in the Western Province of PNG, I am on my way back from picking up a medical team from Lake Murray when I get a medevac call. A patient in Kapal, a village, needs immediate medical care – and the only way for her to get this care is by being flown to a hospital. My plans change immediately. I drop the medical team off in Balimo, inform the next team that I cannot pick them up today anymore and prepare for the medevac. How much fuel do I need? How is the weather where I am going? Do I have enough daylight to return home? Does the patient require a stretcher, or can he or she sit in a seat? How will this affect the following days of flying? I call the Ops team to get more information, and then remove 2 seats from my plane and put a stretcher in their place and prepare for take-off. 

      Twenty minutes later I am on the ground in Kapal (a minimum 2-day trip by boat and land from Balimo). Kapal is a bush village with no health workers, clinic, or school - it is only serviced by the AHP health teams.

   I learn that a young mother had a miscarriage, and the bleeding is not stopping.  Her family helps carry her to the airplane and I secure her in the aircraft on our stretcher. She is weak and I can see the pain in her eyes. Since there is not medical worker, I ask for a family member to accompany and watch her as we fly. Flying can cause medical conditions to deteriorate, so it is important to always have someone accompanying a medical patient. After praying for her and a briefing for the flight we take off towards Daru, a 20 minute flight, where there is a hospital. On route I call for them to have an ambulance ready -- which is just a truck -- so she can get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

    When I do these kind of flights the realities of bush living and lack of proper medical care hit me again and again. I can often see the pain in the eyes of health workers as they battle through the overwhelming need of the isolated each day and I feel privileged to be able to serve with them, realizing that we do not control life but are still called serve to bring help to best of our abilities.

Preparing for Change

 With what feels like only a snap of our fingers, our family is again preparing to enter a time of transition and change. After a little less than a year in Mount Hagen, we are now getting ready -- both physically and mentally -- to leave the "settled" feeling of daily routines and comfort for many exciting changes!

We had the chance to explore Balimo recently, which is where we hope to make our new home when we return to PNG. In our six days there, it was great to get a feel for daily life in the hot and sticky... Or should I say the VERY hot and VERY sticky? Walking around town in the remote lowlands offered a completely different experience of Papua New Guinea than our current life; people are generally shy, quiet, and friendly, whereas the city is noisy with constant cat-calling and strangers are not afraid to test our confidence and knowledge of how things work at nearly every turn. We discovered what the Balimo market had to offer, getting the chance to try a new fruit (lychee) and learn how to cook a turtle, though we decided we weren't quite ready to take the step of buying the live turtle!

Brandon's time in Balimo was filled with flying. When he wasn't dropping off a health team or picking one up, he was performing other critical flights including two medevacs. "Work" and "ministry" took on a whole new meaning in the context of serving the people that live in the same area as we are living in. It offers the joy of being more connected to individuals by getting to know passengers by name and to hear their stories -- but it also means sharing in the grief and difficulties that are almost synonymous with remote village life. This time really reinforced our calling to serve in Balimo, which is situated in the most isolated and needy province of Papua New Guinea.

There are still a few steps for us to take before we make the move to Balimo, however. Our house in Mount Hagen is looking emptier and more bare with each day that passes. "Pictures? Clean up? Books? In Suitcase?" is Nova's way of processing the changes in her life, but she has yet to fully comprehend that we are scheduled to be on an airplane headed back to Canada in less than a week! We are all looking forward to seeing our family again (and meeting the new addition to our family soon, D.V.), but there are definitely mixed feelings circulating about what we know will be a whirlwind of a summer. It seems that regardless of how much we practice, transition and change are always unsettling. 

Trying to embrace this feeling as much as possible, I am reminded of Moses, who I think often had similar feelings of chaos in the middle of change and uncertainty. In one of his conversations with the Lord, he begs God to show him the way that he should go so he can be certain he is following God's will regardless of chaotic and confused thoughts and feelings. The Lord's response to Moses in this time is something that offers peace for us now as well: "And he said, My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest." 

Bush Orientation Part 3: Services in Sangapi

 Nearing the end of our time in Sangapi, we plan to use our last two days to continue to learn and experience as much as possible! Each Monday, individuals from the surrounding communities are able to receive free medicine from the health clinic. The catch is that they must spend the morning working to make sure that the area stays neat and tidy -- and only after lunch can they receive the medicine. 

While everyone is busy working in the morning, we ask the health workers for a tour of their facilities. They show us some of the medicine and tools that they have, but also explain that their ability to provide care for more complex illnesses or injuries is limited. After the tour, I (Nellicia) am interested in seeing the health clinic in action, so I return after lunch while Brandon stays with a napping Nova. A large group of people is waiting in the grass, listening to one of the health workers. He is giving them a stern lecture about how medicine isn't the only solution -- prevention is a better method. "You can spend 10 kina on a bag of rice, so I know that you can spend 2 kina on a bar of soap. Use the soap! Wash! Clean yourself! If you are always dirty you will be sick. Do you sleep with your pigs or dogs? Is your toilet house on the hill above your cooking house? These things are dirty, and you will get sick. You must learn these things first to prevent sickness. Until you learn them, you will always be sick and always need medicine." 

After listening to the 'lesson' for awhile, I head to the porch where people are being called to share what is wrong and to receive their medicine. Many of the sick are tested for malaria -- even though Sangapi is not a malaria zone because of the high elevation, most people frequently travel down to the rivers and valleys, and can be infected there. Some come to receive treatment for tuberculosis, a disease which no longer exists in Canada but continues to be one of the most serious health concerns in PNG. A few people report aches, pains, or strains and are prescribed enough Acetaminophen to last for a week; others come with pregnancy complications that the health workers can do nothing about, other than to encourage them to find some money so they can go to a larger hospital. For some, such as an elderly man with bone cancer, there is no treatment available in the country, so he is simply told to return to his village. 

The difference that the health clinic is making for many people is phenomenal, but still I am left with a twisted feeling in my gut. There are so many people who can't receive the healthcare that they need because it doesn't exist within the country, or because they don't have money, or because they are afraid to go to a clinic because of a stigma or curse, or for a host of other reasons. At the end of the day, the people accept it. It is the only way they know. Most mothers have lost at least half of their children. Cripples are a common sight, and gaping, infected wounds with flies eating the flesh go untreated, usually starting as a small scrape. These are heartbreaking realities, but in the midst of them I must continue to remind myself to see the successes of those trying to help these people; the lives that are saved.  

Later in the afternoon, as the rain is putting an end to the "traditional" afternoon volleyball game, a group of people arrive with a teenage boy on a stretcher. Dusk is approaching, but the health workers greet the arrivals and get to work. Since this was our day of medical learning anyways, we decide to go to the clinic to see what is happening. Talking to the boy's father, we learn that his son fell from a tree while hunting a tree kangaroo and broke his leg. They created a stretcher out of bush materials and carried him to Sangapi, because it was the nearest clinic. When we ask how long it took to get here, we are reminded of the reality of living in the bush once again: "We left on Friday morning and walked all day every day to get here." It is Monday evening. After the boy is transferred from the stretcher to a bed and given some medication to control his pain, we talk to the health workers. They inform us that the boy broke his femur and will need a surgery that they cannot provide; the only thing they are able to do is control his pain. He will need a medivac flight to get to a proper hospital -- the health worker will try to call MAF in the morning. 

Tuesday morning, we ask how the boy is doing and if a flight will be coming to pick him up. The health worker replies that he is not sure, because the family didn't bring money to pay for hospital fees -- they must first return to their village to find some money. Leaving the injured teenager at the clinic, they depart in the morning on the 3-day journey back to their village. Yet again, my heart aches at the reality of this situation and how common I know it to be. 

We spend the rest of the morning at the local primary school, since we heard that a teacher (finally) arrived! I was really hoping to see the school in action, and assumed this would be possible since the school term officially started the week before we arrived. However, as all things take time in PNG, it also takes time for teachers to arrive at school and begin teaching. We meet the teacher and learn that this week will be enrolment week; he is hoping that the rest of the teachers will arrive by the next week. The teacher shows us the curriculum he uses and gives a tour of the classrooms. For this area, tuition for the school year is 20 kina (about $8 CAD), but even still some cannot afford it. 

As a teacher myself, I am interested in what it is like to be a teacher in PNG. I ask a few questions about his schooling, philosophy, and job, and learn a some interesting facts: 1. In PNG, you acquire a teaching licence at a college, not a university, which is seen as a lesser level of education than a business degree, for example. 2. This particular teacher has been teaching for 3 years, but has not received any payment for his work yet. The government is supposed to "backpay" any amounts not given on time, but he does not know when he will begin to receive pay. 3. Since there are so many different local languages, education is standardized into English. Students must speak English at all times, and are punished if they speak their own language. Often, teachers are not fluent in English themselves. 

Thanking the teacher for his insights, we head back to our house for lunch and nap time. Since our plane is supposed to arrive first thing tomorrow morning, we also get a head start on packing up and relax for our last evening in Sangapi. 

On our final morning in Sangapi, we eat breakfast, do a quick clean of the house, and move our things outside. The skies tell us that it is not a guarantee that the plane will be able to make it, but we want to be prepared! We head out to find someone who has contact with MAF to ask what time the plane is planning to arrive. Over the course of the morning, clouds come and go, rain comes and goes, and our expectations go up and down. "The plane will be here in 15 minutes! It just left and is on it's way!" Half an hour later, we discover it still hasn't left because of bad weather. After several hours of "Yes, it's coming!" "No... the weather is not very good." "The plane hasn't been able to leave yet..." "It should be here in half an hour!" and not seeing a plane, we decide that the plane most likely won't be able to come today after all. 

At about 2:00, after keeping Nova awake all morning from her nap so that she could sleep on the plane, we let Nova get the sleep she so desperately needs by this point in the day, and create a mental plan of what we will have for our unexpected extra dinner in Sangapi. Just as Nova starts snoring, someone comes running and says, "The plane is almost here! We need to move your things to the airstrip now!" After confirming that it really is the truth this time, we go into turbo-mode: (sorry about the 15 minute nap, Nova), carry all of the things to the airstrip, and walk up to the airstrip just as the plane is landing. Soon after, we are sitting in the plane with the clouds rolling in once again. As the pilot turns the plane on, the rain starts pouring, and we take off just in time to make it through a hole in the clouds and back to Mount Hagen. This was a real experience of what it means to depend on a MAF airplane (and consequently, the weather)! 

Bush Orientation Part 2: Culture Conversations

 On Day 3 of our time in Sangapi, we start off the morning with a hike up to another ridge nearby. This time, we are accompanied by the village health workers, who are hosting us. They offer a lot of insight into cultural practices, which makes our time with them very educational! Like all of the trails up and down the mountainsides, the shortest route is taken: straight up the slope. Having received some rain the previous night, the red clay quickly turns to mud and is exceptionally slick. Keeping one foot in the grass on the side of the trail is my approach to gaining some traction; since our hiking s
hoes were still drying after washing them following yesterday's trek, our Crocs and flip-flops are not the most ideal footwear! 

After an approximately 45-minute hike, we arrive at the top of the ridge and walk a little further down the trail to meet some of the people who live on this ridge top. The owner of a piece of land shows us his two houses, as well as the new house that is currently being constructed. One of the houses is built on stilts, which prompts a discussion about why houses are built differently. We learn that it comes down to preference: often, younger people enjoy houses on stilts, whereas the older generation usually prefer to sleep on the ground level where the floor retains heat better during cool nights. After taking some time to look around and ask questions, we make the trek back to Sangapi where Nova is able to play for awhile before nap time. With another volleyball game and dinner also complete soon after, we are ready to relax for the evening. 

We heard the news that Saturdays are a community meeting day in Sangapi, so we are excited to see what the day will bring when we wake up! Everything is still very quiet when we head outside around 9am, so we start with a walk up the airstrip. There are many gardens on all of the slopes leading down the ridge; this morning, however, we see people actively at work in a garden that is close by. Asking a few kids who are tagging along with us if they know how to get to that garden, they lead the way and we ask for a tour when we arrive. The owners of the land are thrilled to show us around their "yard," explaining how life is for them. One gentleman wants us to ask as many questions as possible, and he shares his worldview with us very openly. His pride of Sangapi, his tribe, and the peace that they exhibit shines through in all of his answers. Following a conversation with him, his elderly father arrives from working in his new garden. Like son, the father is eager to show us the work he was doing and demonstrates how he uses a shovel to manually turn all of the soil before planting. Mid-work, he turns his toque so that it is straight (yes, we're still trying to understand how so many people wear toques in the scorching heat!), poses, and explains that this would be a very good picture. 

After a tour of the garden, the son shows us his wives' houses as well as his own. Traditionally, husbands are never allowed to enter their wife's house, and vice versa. Since this seemed to be a very traditional family, we asked some direct questions -- and got some answers that were more direct than others. "You have two wives? How many do you want?" "You are never allowed in each others' house? How is it possible for you to have children?" "Do your wives ever fight with each other?" Though they thought it was pretty funny for us to be asking these questions out loud, they were surprisingly open with us. We learned that this particular man wanted 5 wives (which would take awhile, considering the bride prices in the area), that the garden is used for having children, and that he is very fair and takes turns with his wives so they don't fight. While amusing to us, this is just life for many people in PNG; the way it has been is often the way it will be. 

We thank the family for their tour and then head back to the village to see if the community event has started. People come to this event each weekend, some hiking 2-3 hours to arrive. This means that people trickle in slowly, but by noon the air is lively with chatter, a small market, and volleyball and basketball tournaments. Brandon joins the Sangapi team in a volleyball tournament: when it is his turn to play, the crowds flock around to watch the "tall white man." If he doesn't hit the ball for a minute or two, they all start calling out, "White man! White man!" If he hits the ball (or even better, spikes it), the crowd goes into an uproar of cheering and laughter. By uproar, I mean that Nellicia could hear exactly when Brandon hit the ball from our house, which was a 5-10 minute walk away! We had a great afternoon talking to people from various communities, and really enjoyed the event -- it was so simple, but allowed so many people to connect with each other in friendly conversations and sport. 

With yet another busy day complete, we relaxed for the evening and prepared for Sunday. In church on Sunday, while most people sit on low benches that are about 6 inches off of the dirt floor, we were treated as guests of honour with plastic chairs. After speaking only Tok Pisin since our arrival, we were able to follow the sermon quite easily, which was a sign of our progress! We were all thankful for a day of rest after the busy days we had just had, and at the end of the day were excited for the new week ahead. 

Bush Orientation Part 1: Exploration

Watching as the MAF airplane disappears from sight, we get the first impression of what it means to be isolated. Here we are: three white people standing among a crowd of locals, in a village where we know nobody, with nothing but two suitcases and a cooler containing the food and clothes we'll need for the next week. With the excitement bubbling around us, there is nothing that we can do but feel excited about what the next week in Sangapi will hold! 

Several men from the village offer to carry our bags for us, and we take in the sights as we follow them to our temporary home. Sangapi lies on a small mountain ridge at an elevation of nearly 2,000m above sea level, but is surrounded on all sides by taller mountain ranges. We see bush houses and gardens dotting the mountain sides around us; the only buildings with a tin roof are the small health clinic, school buildings, and mission house, which are all situated on the perimeter of the airstrip. Since no roads lead to Sangapi, there are no vehicles to be seen. Instead, the sound that greets us is the whir of a lawnmower busily working to keep the grounds around the health centre and mission house looking tidy.

We settle into our house and unpack our things before going on a short walk to explore the area around the airstrip. Later in the afternoon, Brandon starts a daily tradition of playing volleyball with whoever would like to join. Shy at first, most stand at a distance to watch while Brandon plays with only the bravest kids. Not long after, others gather their courage to play with the "white man" too, and soon the game is filled with people and laughter. We receive a welcome gift of potatoes and onions from a village lady, and head home for dinner as the rain starts and the sun goes down.

We wake with the roosters at 4am the next morning, who must think they are the sunrise's alarm! After trying to rest for a few more hours, we have breakfast and head outside to explore. As we were starting our explorations yesterday, we saw a path that led out of the village that we planned to explore today. Starting down the path alone, we are soon joined by several children (and not long after, a few adults as well). We realize that this path leads all the way down the mountainside to a river below, and that the people walking with us expect to accompany us all the way to the river! With no idea how far it is, we decide to go with them at least a short way. 

Soon, the relatively stable dirt path turns to oozing mud. This is no big deal for everyone else, since they march through the mud in their bare feet -- which were already dirty to start with. For us, getting our runners covered in mud with 6 days of our trip left has us thinking twice. We decide that a little mud shouldn't stop us, and continue. Not long after, we come to a stream with a log lying across as a makeshift bridge. Again, we stop to think twice! Not only does the log look slippery, it is at least a few feet fall to the stream below.. and Brandon is carrying Nova, which means he is lacking the use of his arms. This time, we decide to cross the muddy stream instead of using the bridge, but again continue on with our "tour guides." Their balance and dexterity impress us; a young boy of about 7 has been carrying a toddler on his shoulders nearly the entire way, never slowing or hesitating for a moment. A woman is carrying her newborn in a string-bag, supported by her forehead. Even though the baby is only a few weeks old, this hike does not phase the mother. 

Once we reach the river with the "big bridge," we stop to rest while the ladies carry on. They are headed to their garden to harvest some food, which they will then carry back up to the village. The children have a quick swim in the river while we rest, and then head back up with us. About half way back, a few of the children veer off down another smaller path. We ask the others where they are going, and one boy says that their house is that way. Asking if it is okay for us to see where they live, we follow this smaller path. The girl who lives at the first house shows us around her family's property; they are currently in the process of building a new house, but live, cook, and sleep in their old house for the time being. After seeing this house, the children invite us up another path to see even more houses. Some of them live in houses on stilts, others in rectangular houses, and some are round. Some families cook and sleep in the same house, while some have a separate "cook house." All of them are similar in that they are made completely out of bush materials, usually woven together and tied with bush rope. After seeing where four or five of the children live, we make it back to our own house -- tired, yes, but glad that we braved the mud!

After another afternoon game of volleyball (and a game of chase-the-chickens for Nova), we head back to our house for the night. This evening, we prepare more thoroughly for the rats which we discovered the previous night! Though the fridge in the house doesn't work, it serves as a great storage place for any food that is not in Tupperware containers. Any food that we think they might possibly enjoy -- or test -- is put away in the fridge or cooler. Despite all of our cleaning and "removing" efforts, they still feel the need to check for treats each night, which leaves us the job of cleaning up after them each morning. Mental note: next trip to a bush village, bring a rat trap!

Commitments

Visits to the local orphanage are becoming increasingly common as I (Nellicia) realize the needs of the place. It is incredible to see how hard the children work every day in the scorching heat – plowing fields by hand, planting vegetables, harvesting crops, cooking their own meals, hand-washing clothes, etc. It is heartbreaking to realize that these children do not know how to play without an adult guiding them. The shy, friendly smiles that greet me with each visit make me want to learn more than just their names. Their personal stories are still largely unknown to me: who they are, and why they are here. At the same time, I am afraid to learn more. I know that only about half of the children living at BFO are truly orphans. The other half leave stories of violence and abuse behind that made it too dangerous for them to remain at “home,” but this somehow makes their stories even more tragic.

As I considered where and in what capacity I would like to be involved in ministry during our time in Mount Hagen, the needs of the orphanage kept coming back to me. Yes, there are major teacher shortages both in local and international schools. There are expat children who could benefit from music lessons or tutoring. There are part-time roles open within MAF that I could have stepped into. But none of these opportunities had a grasp on me as strongly as the needs of the children at BFO. And so, with the decision being made, I have started to become more involved. 

My first concrete step of involvement has been teaching a course to the children on Personal Safety and Abuse Prevention. With a large proportion of the children having experienced some form of abuse or assault, along with the fact that the culture in this area is one where violence is expected and domestic violence is accepted, this was a clear area of need. Starting with discussions about different feelings and what situations may create those feelings, we soon moved on to discussing feeling safe versus unsafe and how our body gives us clear signs when we are feeling unsafe. We discussed more sensitive topics such as what parts of our bodies are off-limits and how we should respond if someone breaks those limits. The final part of the course will be a session where each child creates their own safety network, with five trusted adults that they can talk to about sensitive topics. Of course, it will be difficult for these children to come up with five adults that they know, and even more difficult to think of five adults to whom they would disclose personal, and in this culture, shameful, information. However, I believe this course is only a start that I am hoping can be built on through the development of healthy and trust-filled relationships. 

While teaching this course, I was also able to spend some time observing the children’s typical school day. Since most children come to the orphanage with very little English and no formal education, it makes it difficult to have standard schooling. For this reason, each child starts with a self-paced Christian homeschool curriculum to get “caught up,” or at least learn the basics of reading and writing. When the child reaches a Grade 5 level, they begin going to public school. A few things that I noticed while observing were that this curriculum, though it has a Christian lens, only teaches the core subject areas of Reading, Writing, Math, Science, and Social Studies. Students also work through their various workbooks as their sole method of learning; there are no activities, presentations, or projects. They receive a goal for each day, and work quietly until they complete the goal, at which point their schooling is complete – whether that be at 11am or 2pm, they must sit quietly in school until 3pm. 

Seeing this setup (which is a lot to ask of the orphanage considering the help and supplies that are available), I realized that I could help enhance the education experience in a few small ways. And so, beginning in the new school year (which starts at the beginning of February), I will be returning to my role as a teacher to support the helpers that are leading the schooling and to try to implement a few changes. 

Briefly, some of the initiatives that I am most excited about: I plan to teach regular Bible classes. I feel that this is an important part of my ministry to the children, and hope that they will gain a passion for God and His Word through these classes. I will also be adding some “extra-curriculars” into the school day, such as P.E., Art, and read aloud time; the goal of these is that they will ultimately be planned and lead by some of the older students. A few other small changes are not worth mentioning here, but I am excited to see how the children respond to these extra activities and classes! And as with all aspects of our family’s ministry in PNG, we pray that God will work through us to bring about lasting change in the hearts and lives of people throughout this country; change that is so desperately needed.