BOMAI WITNE
WHEN I had to forego my church service that Sunday 17 August, in the name of creating the future, I could sense the deep agony between my soul and physical being.
However missing a few Sunday services to help my students out in the islands of Milne Bay Province was an exchange good enough to convince my soul.
The road from Alotau town to East Cape takes about two hours to travel. Kevin and I enjoyed the drive and the beauty of the landscape and the sea.
East Cape is the end of PNG mainland. It’s the tail-like shape to the east on the map of PNG.
I recalled a brief moment I spent at the Manokwari wharf in West Papua while travelling back to PNG from Bali in Indonesia and I knew that I had now travelled the length of the mighty New Guinea.
I smiled at this thought and took some heavy sips of kulau (young, fresh coconut juice) at East Cape as If I were an explorer toasting my accomplishment with a few beers in a bar.
The weather that Sunday morning was so fine we could see the sparkle and glow of sand along the coast where the sea met the land.
At East Cape, we met Sydney, the dinghy operator, two male staff members from Wesley Secondary School and two boys aged about ten that Sydney brought with him on his dinghy from Salamo.
The other staff member introduced himself to me and Kevin as “Mr Gibson”. Sydney smiled and packed my bags neatly in green canvas used to dry parchment coffee.
Sydney was looking out to sea and spitting his betel nut while packing the canvas. He seemed distracted but I could not find fault in the way he packed the stuff.
Later I smiled when he unpacked the canvas and I picked out my bag at Watuluma wharf on Goodenough Island at about 6.30 that night because not a single drop of salt water had landed on my bag.
What I saw confirmed Gibson’s assurance that Sydney was one guy who had vast experience of the sea and who would always do his job well.
Sydney passed a yellow life jacket to me and showed me how to wear it. I managed to put it on without much difficulty. He passed two small life jackets to the two boys.
Sydney had to convince one of the small boys to wear the life jacket. The boy didn’t seem worried, like the young highlands kids not worrying about sticking their legs out over a trailer on those rugged mountain roads. To this coastal boy, travelling on a dinghy without a life jacket was normal.
I sat between the two boys on the only wooden plank laid across the dinghy. The calmness of the sea from East Cape to Salamo made me comfortable and Sydney could see the confidence in me.
I developed a view that the sea would be calm like this for the rest of my trip. A few small waves hit us as we neared Salamo but these didn’t worry me because they were nothing like the stories I had heard.
During the journey, Sydney tried to point out the islands and attempted to tell me something about them but most of his words were blown away by the wind. I didn’t know how to turn to face Sydney on a moving dinghy so I sat rooted to my seat, looking ahead for the entire journey to Salamo and Watuluma.
After about two and a half hours of travel, bigger islands came into view in the distance. I realised they were Normanby, Dobu and Ferguson Islands. We were soon heading for Salamo Bay wharf.
In front of the wharf were some aging buildings in need of major renovation. These turned out to be owned by the Papua Islands branch of the United Church. They housed machines and equipment for the technical college.
There was a wooden boat being built in one of the buildings close to the wharf and I concluded this must be part of one of the courses offered at the college.
A straight, sandy road from the wharf led to Wesley Secondary School.
After conversing with a man in a local language, Sydney turned to me and said, “This man will take you to the principal’s house”. I nodded, the man offered to carry my bag and we were on our way.
We arrived at the principal’s house and he introduced himself, offered me betel nut and said, “Angra (‘brother’ in the Kuman language of Simbu) welcome to Salamo.” That reception was enough to calm my heat and slow thmye fast flowing sweat. I wondered how he got to know I was a Simbu man.
The principal took me to the staff room and introduced me to some staff who were working during the weekend while he set out to confirm my accommodation arrangements. After a few minutes, he returned to tell me that the bookings had been made but an employee of the guest house has allocated the room to another client.
I told him that my teaching practice supervision was to start that week at his school and the next week at Santa Maria Secondary school on Goodenough Island and said I had the flexibility to change my schedule.
It was 3.50 in the afternoon and I asked Sydney if we had enough time to reach Watuluma. Sydney smiled and nodded. So we set off for Santa Maria Secondary School in Watuluma, travelling the seas off the west coast of Ferguson Island.
Wesley pointed to some villages along the coast and mentioned their names but my mind was not following, it was preoccupied with the thought of travelling at night in the sea.
About 40 minutes into the journey, I observed we were travelling away from the coastline and that the waves were getting bigger. They were approaching the dinghy in rapid succession.
I sent a text message on my phone, “The feeling of travelling on the rough seas now is like you driving into potholes at full speed. The bumps force you to bounce from your seat and if you do, you may not find yourself on your seat on the dinghy.”
I received much feedback from my contacts. Some made me laugh, others made me think deeper and one or two proposed to say a prayer for me. The messages provided the strength I needed.
Someone asked me, “Did you pray?” I told him, “Praying is a natural thing to do under such circumstances and I did think about it but the words didn’t come easily.”
At around 5.30, nearly two hours into our journey, the seas grew calmer and I could see the sun set over Goodenough Island. It sent beautiful rays across the open sea and sky, a beauty that was truly awesome and breathtaking. An indescribable sight of beauty.
For the first time since departing from Salamo, I broke my silence and told Sydney and Wesley, “Thank you for bringing me to such a place where I can see the sunset and its full glamour.” This sight gave me additional strength and motivation.
At about 6.30, it was getting darker and we were still travelling. Sydney, with the help of his crew using torchlight, was trying to maneuver his way to shore.
There was a period when Sydney stopped for more than 15 minutes and his crew was splashing torchlight around the dingy and conversing in their local language. It raised a lot questions in mind and I was thinking, “What the f..k is going on!”
I couldn’t hold my boiling thoughts longer so I asked Sydney why we were stopping. Sydney said, “Mister, we are approaching the wharf but there are many reefs so Wesley is trying to use the torch to find the passage”.
I was happy that we were about to reach the wharf and reached into my bilum for a betel nut and enjoyed chewing it as we slowly approached our destination .