Sunday, September 8, 2024

Real Conversations

In a place like Papua New Guinea, where there are very few roads because of harsh terrain and travelling any distance can be quite dangerous, an airplane makes a huge difference. We know this is true. We have researched the country, shared statistics during presentations,  and lived here for two years. Even so, while the pilots are in the air, the stories happening on the ground as a result of their flying can go unnoticed. A pilot may not realize that the flight they just completed made the difference between life and death. They may not know why each of their passengers was travelling or what each piece of cargo would be used for. Each story offers new insight and adds to our picture of the joys and struggles of life in "the bush." 

While a friend, who is one of Brandon's regular passengers, was on break, I (Nellicia) had the opportunity to look through her eyes to see the impact of weekly health patrol teams on remote villages. As a Health Extension Officer (HEO), she is responsible for attending to patients and offering relevant educational sessions for the village. I learned that their job requires patience with community members, creativity with supplies, and a certain kind of grit -- but also that it results in communities becoming more health-aware and lives being saved.

One story that repeats itself often when seeing a new patient:
HEO: "Hello, what problem are you having?"
Patient: "I am sick."
HEO: "Okay, where are you feeling sick?"
Patient: "I am feeling sick."
HEO: "Where are you feeling sick? Your head, your stomach, or something else?"
Patient: "Yes, I am sick."
HEO: "Can somebody find a translator here that understands English?

A response to a question about accommodation for the health teams in the village:
"It depends on the village. Sometimes they build a place for us to stay, usually a bigger bush hut. If they don't build a place for us then they usually send people out of their homes while we are there so we can use their house. Sometimes they bring us fresh vegetables from their garden, but usually we have to go find some food and use the supplies we've taken along. Patients will come see us until dark (we can't see patients after dark because there is no light), but then we need to go collect wood to start a fire and cook our food. We don't usually sleep very good because the beds they make are just wooden boards that are very uneven, so we put a yoga mat on top and try to sleep."

When I asked if she is ever afraid on patrols:
"Usually we are fine. There is one area that is not good, because it has gangs in the area. Usually the worst villages are also in a black spot with no connection, so I really don't like going there. I get worried that if a gang comes we will be completely on our own and just have to run and hide in the bush, since my team only has women."

The power of shame and fear coming through when we discussed their focus of health education:
"Now it is just snake bites, snake bites, snake bites. We are making sure that every village has a pressure bandage and teaching them how to respond to a snake bite. They think that if they walk loudly the snake won't bite them, but I don't trust that."
Have there been a lot of snake bites recently?
"Yes, plenty. Just last month there was a twelve year old boy in a village who was playing soccer with his friends. The ball went into the long grass so he went to get it and a snake bit him. He was afraid to tell anyone that the snake bit him, so he kept playing soccer. That is the worst thing to do, because if you are running around the venom spreads more quickly through your body. He went home and was feeling a bit sick that night. His parents noticed he was sick but didn't think too much of it. The next morning his body was starting to get paralyzed. He must have told one of his friends about the snake because a friend told the parents that he was bit by a snake. The village didn't have any anti-venom so they contacted our health teams in Balimo. We told them to put the boy in a boat and start down the river towards Balimo, and a health team took their supplies and also started boating to meet them. At this point, the paralysis was already affecting his breathing. As soon as the boats met they moved the boy to the health team's boat and tried to start treating him in the middle of the river. They had trouble getting the canula in to administer the anti-venom because his veins were collapsing. He died in the boat. 
"If he had just told someone that he was bit by a snake and stopped playing soccer, he would have been able to get anti-venom in time. But he was afraid that his parents would be angry, so he didn't tell, and it cost him his life."

It is hard hearing stories like this. Sometimes I feel like it would be easier to not hear them, and I hesitate to share them. But they speak volumes to the culture of these villages, in which shame and fear are powerful forces. Even though most of these communities would have a Christian church and give themselves a Christian label, fear is a driving force in many of their lives. Fear of bringing a curse on the family, of having interacted with a bad spirit, or even just the fear of disobeying a father or husband. The work of the health teams is a step towards eradicating the fear of curses and spirits by teaching how sicknesses spread, how proactive treatment can prevent death, and that the causes of illness are physical, not demonic. And the reason that we are here is the hope that this stronghold of fear will be replaced with the "peace of God, which passeth all understanding, [which] shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7

Though I am intrigued by these stories which tell so much about the place we are living in, my time with this friend was not spent asking questions about her work. We made music together and read stories and painted together with our kids. She showed me how she was making her bilum (a PNG string bag) and I taught her how to bake bread. It is in these simple moments spent together that real conversations happen.

With time, the people we have been getting to know for the past year are losing their self-consciousness around us. Instead of a question being met with a short, awkward response, I am now getting honest responses and questions in return. Sometimes these real conversations are more difficult to have, since it means I have to come to terms with realities that were first understood only in the third person. Some things are easier to think of when they relate to strangers but become more difficult to process when we are discussing the reality of our friends, neighbours, and youth that have a special place in our lives. 

Even though many of the realities and hardships in Papua New Guinea won't disappear in the time that we are here, our purpose in serving here isn't primarily about ending TB, eradicating malaria, or solving the problems of domestic violence. Our hope above all else, is that we can show a way of peace that has the power to break down any stronghold of fear. We know that those who find Christ cannot be separated from his love, whatever their situation in life might be. Whether they are people that we know or others living in the villages we are serving, they too can be conquerors through Christ. There are none too far from Him. 

"Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:37-39





 

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Real Conversations

In a place like Papua New Guinea, where there are very few roads because of harsh terrain and travelling any distance can be quite dangerous...