RASHMII BELL
MY train of thought has an incredibly annoying habit of steamrolling my brain just as I’m mid-task in the tedious duties of everyday life: tasks once started that, for my own blood pressure safety, be completed in one undertaking.
Pairing socks straight off the clothes line, rolling out a batch of green fondant icing or (as was today’s chore) mopping up the 15-metre trail of black shoe polish snaking its way across the cream tiles through an open plan townhouse.
Meanwhile my mind spins away, moving much faster and with greater concentration than the task at hand.
I can never be sure that this is due to the undiluted three-mix blend of household grade disinfectant or just the irrational anger that accompanies household chores and serves as my muse.
Either way, I hold the sodium hypochlorite fully accountable for any irritation my views may cause in others.
For some time now, I’ve been sitting on the idea of writing an exposé on the challenges of interacting with the Papua New Guinean woman in modern day PNG society.
Wait for it. Pin. Drops. Now I’ve got your attention.
I’ve toyed with a few directions I could take the story, canvassing angles with friends. But that was always met with nervous laughter, imaginary specks of dust in eyes or indignant ‘you can’t say that’s’. The message is clear. Leave the hand grenade alone.
I mean, no one better knows the wrath of a Papua New Guinean woman than a Papua New Guinean woman.
But things needed to be said and it was my good fortune that a braver soul led the way recently by taking it upon herself recently to convey a critique of PNG women in a piece provocatively entitled ‘The ten difficulties of dealing with women in PNG’.
So that floodgate’s been flung open and I’m either disgustingly delighted or delightedly disgusted.
My reactions travelled something of a roller coaster from the depths of mortification to the heights of amusement as I was advised of my shortcomings as a PNG woman.
Swooping up and down were low self-esteem, pride, irrational beliefs, immaturity and failing to learn from past mistakes. Ugh, my failings as a Papua New Guinean woman, a hindrance to social change.
What a sorry lot we are.
What did mellow my fury was the article’s use of a bikini-clad PNG Miss World – a supermodel reclining amongst boulders somewhere away from the frequented shores of Ela Beach. Elongated legs. Bizarre.
But, if that’s how we’re depicting the average Papua New Guinean woman’s physique these days, I guess I’ll take it.
Maybe a whiff of my floor cleaning concoction had travelled to the writer’s word processor.
Look, I do agree there are challenges to working with PNG women but I refuse to entertain the idea that we can be reduced to conviction-lacking, self-absorbed, indecisive, repeat-offender damsels in distress.
That said, I suppose someone’s always got to take one for the team. Often those in prominent positions are at the mercy of harsh public scrutiny. Yes, a member of parliament. Female.
I nearly choked on my chai tea when I read of Delilah Gore MP’s recent aviation troubles and subsequent investigation and reprimand. Of course I don’t condone arrogant and aggressive behaviour and certainly not the trauma inflicted on airline staff, passengers and other innocents.
But, as someone pointed out, a Papua New Guinean woman’s pride can “make us feel good, it can protect us from harm (or so we think), but despite what it can feel like, it can have a negative impact”. I propose that pride could be the instigator of Ms Gore’s woes.
Pride. To be fair, however, this analysis should be extended to explain the failings of all Papua New Guineans. Male and Female.
Pride. “Do you know who I am?”
From where I’m standing, adjacent to a trail of black shoe polish, this expression is as embedded in PNG society as the all-day breakfast of oil-drenched lamb flaps washed down with an icy cold sugar-laden beverage.
“Do you know who I am?” is the standover tactic used against security guards to forcibly enter private premises. It’s the big-headed offspring’s response when informed of exclusion from further study. It’s a favourite of the puffed up chest who marches to the front of a mile-long queue at the bank.
“Do you know who I am?” is the war cry of all Papua New Guineans who are severely challenged in exhibiting articulate, rational and courteous behaviour.
It’s a malevolent reminder of our unofficial but blatantly obvious caste system.
It’s the rhetorical question delivered to remind one to never forget their place. Ever.
I can’t decide what is more of an outrage with Delilah Gore MP.
That a female MP has been formally ostracised for the same behaviour most of her male cohorts have displayed for decades. Or that there has been a total absence of Papua New Guinean women protesting at Ms Gore’s public humiliation.
Another golden opportunity missed by Papua New Guinean women who whinge to their qwerty keyboards about discrimination and stunted progress.
We talk the talk through petitions signed, television cameras fronted, academic discussions had and inspirational memes shared.
But when it comes time to walk the talk, our legs are lead.
Papua New Guinean women, we are our own worst enemies.
Perhaps there is validity in the ‘Ten Difficulties’ argument after all. Working with us should be a more positive experience.
Narrowing the gap between difficulty and possibility can only occur if we utilise our personal strengths in giving a big push to areas needing improvement.
In the meantime, when it’s back to business as usual and that trouble-making pride is restored, I suspect Ms Gore will have received the response she sought aboard that aircraft. Do we know who she is?
Yes, ma’am.
You are a Papua New Guinean woman holding an office that desperately needs the presence of many more Papua New Guinean women if a seismic shift is to take place to in prevailing gender inequalities.
Now, Mr Mop, how can I be of service?