tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71275122582809675072024-03-06T05:59:19.180+11:00Sampla toktokMusings about life in Papua New Guinea, land of the unexpected..PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-6590734226407495062021-02-19T20:42:00.000+11:002021-02-19T20:42:50.484+11:00Where did time go<p> 2021, such a long way away from 2013, the last time i wrote something here. Where did all the time go?</p><p> In all fairness part of growing up means leaving the activities of old and moving on to bigger better things. As a way of explaining I stumbled back across this blog again while updating my resume, not for a prospective employer but for honorary lecturer status. Its like reading a record frozen in time of the struggles I had earlier in my career.</p><p>Time flies. What happened in the 8 years since my last post? An absolute family tragedy that made nationwide and regional news, a family wedding, Masters graduation, random travel adventures both in-country and abroad, a worldwide pandemic, whew a lot has happened. </p><p>I smile now that this is going to probably be my last post on this blog and eventually I will figure out how to shut it down once and for all, but I encourage you all not to stop writing or expressing your individuality.</p><p>Cheers (I never know how to end these things without sounding cheesy)</p>PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-50923670278207028172013-09-28T13:58:00.001+10:002013-09-28T13:58:14.558+10:00Steering clear of the dark side.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I begin this post by saying yes, its been forever. Not to say nothing has happened but exactly the opposite, too much has happened. One thing I've noted, if youre young, have a good career and perks and single, the tendancy for people to make up stuff about you like your kidding about your age, you must be married, etc seems to skyrocket exponentialy. Also it seems to be a winning formula for attracting fools who think its okay to scam you and then lie through their teeth like the antisocial personality disorder addled humans they are (fullfilling more than three criteria mind you).<br />
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But I learned a long time ago that it's okay if people talk like that because deep down, I'm still the woman my mother raised me to be. Yes, the truth of the matter is that after work all I do is go home and study or watch TV and sleep and its boring but it pays to be comfortable in your own skin. I mean, hey someone's got to have that boring life. And being a tech head fits in with the homebody lifestyle a great deal.<br />
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Speaking of technology, its amazing what has been thought up to help the world of medicine. Just returned from the PNG Medical Symposium and my my, the stuff I wish we had. Imagine having the lab back up to do viral cultures at each hospital, to do genetic studies to predict disease, to be able to do fiberoptic scopes at every hospital. Okay, pretty much still a dream outside Port Moresby but still. I know most people will say, forget the technology, what about all the people dying from diseases like Malaria and TB, but I say, look to the future of what we can offer our people. Lets not live in the dark ages of medicine and guess fire work (I think it must be this so I will guess and treat with this). Dont you wish you could say: I think it is this so now am going to investigate, prove that it is this and then treat? What a day when that happens in every place you go to in PNG down to the health centre level.<br />
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So I've decided not to live in the dark ages, to try and strive to see where the light of education and information leads me, and definetaly to steer cleer of people who dwell in the shadows of disbelief, dishonesty, those who try to change who I am for the worse. I figure I am one paduan steering clear of the dark side. May the force be with you all.</div>
PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-17719142126371774642013-02-08T21:44:00.000+11:002013-02-08T21:44:12.007+11:00Moving back to the relatively real world<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I had to move recently to grow in this career. Turned on the phone and noted 3G network, more than two radio stations all in english and increased human traffic on the streets. Now I note that I miss that little beach town I had to leave behind. Walked to work this morning and noted the many vehicles, the noise, the dirty drains and my thoughts turned back to walking to work along the beach, pausing to note the size of the waves and the colour of the sea. I'm homesick for the town I left behind.<br />
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Standing at the airport when the plane landed and thought of the airport I left behind where my sisters all came. My brothers feigned excuses not to come say goodbye that they didn't want to see waterworks when I knew they were sad to see me go. The airport where my cousin hugged me and I knew he wanted to cry but was holding it back. Where my nephews and nieces helped me eat the chocolates I was supposed to take with me and where they insisted on staying while the delayed flight sat on the tarmac for an hour (it helps immensly that the sun doesnt set there till 1900HOURS). <br />
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Walked into the market and there was green produce aplenty and smiled as I thought of Koiya (a small Indonesian mini town) market and buying vegetables from the supermarket after the container ship arrives. But when a fight broke out outside the market and people starting running, I had palpitations and wished I was a million miles away.<br />
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So, yes I moved back to the relatively real world but I miss that sleepy little town where the sun doesnt set till late and everybody knows your name and respects your work. Where I found my voice, learned to lead and found laughter, friends and re-united with family...</div>
PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-36621973106354766042012-10-24T01:36:00.001+11:002012-10-24T01:36:06.649+11:00Depends on the ship<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You may have gathered already from my previous posts that I live in a small coastal town although previously being a city dweller at heart. One thing I’ve learned is that certain food items I took for granted in the city are not so easy to find in this small place. These items are not your necessity items, it’s the other stuff like certain types of cheese, a decent chocolate bar, highlands grown vegetables (cauliflower, capsicums, etc) and sometimes that particular food item you crave. Such as fresh peas (pause to utter a long sigh).<br />
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Yesterday I tried to explain to someone where to find cake ingredients and without realizing gave her a detailed explanation of which ingredients to get where and that only one store in town sold soft icing sugar and ‘you had better stock up because once it runs out you won’t find it for a while’. I had to stop myself chuckling as I’m starting to sound like a local (bear in mind my definition of a local is someone who has spent more than 5 years continuously in one spot, place of origin not counted). When I first arrived here I had no idea how I was going to bake anything, where I was going to find Orchy or if I ever was going to eat another cherry ripe again. A year down the track, I’m happily baking, Orchy is easy to find and have found that a certain pharmacy regularly stocks up on Cadbury chocolates and my beloved Cherry Ripes. I’ve even located Jubes, yes those hard sugar coated jelly fruity sweets, oh immeasurable joy. I actually shrieked when I found Jubes on the supermarket sweet shelf much to the embarrassment of accompanying relatives who gave each other that ‘she’s a city kid’ look. <br />
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Even vegetables are easier to find these days. I found out that supplies of vegetables for certain supermarkets arrive once a month on a particular cargo ship. This has made vegetable shopping infinitely easier as all I have to do is check when the ship arrives, wait a day or two to allow for unloading and then buy in bulk at the supermarket. Brilliant isn’t it? At this point you should visualize the pleased at myself large grin on my face. Previously I had to resort to multivitamin supplements for my diet, it’s so much nicer to actually taste green leafy vegetables then take a pill.<br />
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I also found out there is a second hand shop here in town. For those of you either Papua New Guinean in origin or have a long acquaintance with our nation, you would realize by now that second hand shopping ‘em kaikai yah’ (an almost national pastime). For the rest of you, a second hand shop is somewhat like a thrift shop or one of those charity shops that sell donated old clothes and whatnot. After a lengthy conversation with the shop keeper (you’ll find I like indulging in random conversations of a curious nature with strangers), I found out that they also rely on a certain shipping line (not the same as the supermarket grocery supplies come from) to bring in their bales of second hand clothes so hence another devised plan to wait for the ship to come in. <br />
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Many people tell me I could always get stuff in Indonesia (across the border) but being wholly patriotic and believing in buying in Papua New Guinea, I shall stick to waiting for a ship to come in. Almost anything can be bought here; it just depends on the ship.<br />
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PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-32009400375418780612012-09-17T07:25:00.001+10:002012-09-17T07:25:01.783+10:00Independence Day and Patriotism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday the nation of Papua New Guinea celebrated 37 years of Independence. Small town existance means that if you waited till a few days before Independence Day to be looking for a flag/decorations or Independence Day t-shirts and assorted garb, you would be too late. The few stores that sold patriotic related memorabillia rapidly sold out. I spent the last two days before the weekend looking for a large flag to fly outside my house inbetween work however to no avail. I had to settle for a string of small flags to adorn the balcony. Happily though I had the bright spark notion to buy Independance related ballons on my last trip to the big smoke and when tied with streamers actually brightened the balcony even more.<br />
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Independence Day celebrations in many towns and cities includes a march by members of the armed forces, schools, organisations and the public to a gathering point (field/stadium/etc) followed by a flag raising ceremony, the national anthem and saying of the national pledge. The ceremonies usually start early so that the flag raising ceremony would begin around 8 to 9 am. Small town etiquette means that the starting time is highly negotiable especially if at 8am in the morning it is pouring heavy rain. A nice touch was the organisers driving around with a loud hailer in the rain to announce the march would start around 11am. <br />
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Before the march started, I decided to take a stroll around the town with relations (kitted out in Independence and nationalism related attire of course) and random people walking on the beach and the streets stopped to smile and wish me Happy Independence day. I think a small town allows for people to be relaxed enough to share their joy with strangers at such an occasion which may be lost in a much more populous area. One thing that is the same as most larger centres though is that when you walk into most shops, the employees are dressed either in national colours or traditional outfits for the day. <br />
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After a quick spin around town, we headed back to a section of the beach where school children lined up, all dressed in full uniforms with their banners all waiting for the march to start. I spent the time taking random photos of each school and the others who were there. Sometimes people ask why I take photos of events, whether it is for a memory and I say it is. I want to have some record of public events that later down the track someone else can look at and know what Papua New Guinea for the average person was like in 2012. I look back at old photos on file about past Independence day celebrations and the best ones that speak volumes about the occasion were taken from the average individuals camera. Granted the photographs taken by professionals are a great account of the events , but my favourite photos are still of random individuals smiling, waving the national flag. The joy in their eyes speaks volumes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwfTJ6v_FBuQxQkibcKONU2sB7k32VqI6BJIQkACS5hswaCnOCjWhHfmDiFj6Mud_ocQ2glEfzppR3F-ybR9x9VrVbNanXm7KOWT69Xm_M8vNjvUQbOfp4D6ikdFAb2YWYk1qgmUlSPX7N/s1600/IMG00172-20120916-1107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwfTJ6v_FBuQxQkibcKONU2sB7k32VqI6BJIQkACS5hswaCnOCjWhHfmDiFj6Mud_ocQ2glEfzppR3F-ybR9x9VrVbNanXm7KOWT69Xm_M8vNjvUQbOfp4D6ikdFAb2YWYk1qgmUlSPX7N/s320/IMG00172-20120916-1107.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marchers lined along the beach</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vanimo Primary School Banner</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisnC17jwv-mPgbe7ljDMAOMo09-HJItGd-2ati8iOdbn83GCw0ASwTTNXDt3kdW3QKp0MGmd-qxwjHBzZyzA-KdkLMT9YMYXdSv2pG1MmP9kTBYZTSxdwlERfiFizFxu2pr_euLc-ux4ju/s1600/IMG00166-20120916-1048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisnC17jwv-mPgbe7ljDMAOMo09-HJItGd-2ati8iOdbn83GCw0ASwTTNXDt3kdW3QKp0MGmd-qxwjHBzZyzA-KdkLMT9YMYXdSv2pG1MmP9kTBYZTSxdwlERfiFizFxu2pr_euLc-ux4ju/s320/IMG00166-20120916-1048.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holy Cross Primary School</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6dcHMdN1UsjoaL3AOmDk4ZwMmboeU8FNewskej-O3ROzG7KaUs6UPFsqarJS8_r6dw2ZmRXfDspgEBUblmLZHB6gGXZloCxlySxj34_u9jcNH-Wi8NpXKGwP_6A6UWWlki_1ZdPARxEVm/s1600/IMG00169-20120916-1106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6dcHMdN1UsjoaL3AOmDk4ZwMmboeU8FNewskej-O3ROzG7KaUs6UPFsqarJS8_r6dw2ZmRXfDspgEBUblmLZHB6gGXZloCxlySxj34_u9jcNH-Wi8NpXKGwP_6A6UWWlki_1ZdPARxEVm/s320/IMG00169-20120916-1106.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marchers lined along the beach</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRFwguHUnO75OcF_-7zLswVli349ro0q0F-E_KrfEwI9PdEI_9kLdYQ-KHNTo3psmf_CXGbpLdHCMB7ngvHq9WQtg8dpgsk6pdCDiCDoRc3MXnCj9SbvAtMXYX5BuNsBRUcTNrlHEzFvzE/s1600/IMG00174-20120916-1110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRFwguHUnO75OcF_-7zLswVli349ro0q0F-E_KrfEwI9PdEI_9kLdYQ-KHNTo3psmf_CXGbpLdHCMB7ngvHq9WQtg8dpgsk6pdCDiCDoRc3MXnCj9SbvAtMXYX5BuNsBRUcTNrlHEzFvzE/s320/IMG00174-20120916-1110.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Armed forces leading the march</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZsmsYixiZWcyCDIVX7pwk-uuzbifKtPdWEDGq75QS3xtYbukukwW0AJKwa7JgLT1nOnoKEwdzeu1twrkP2ztH0q88mXJ_TqQ1qAtOmVu1dUMtuBaLwODkQOJwS3Y-sbJjX5kK_Bsekchp/s1600/IMG00176-20120916-1110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZsmsYixiZWcyCDIVX7pwk-uuzbifKtPdWEDGq75QS3xtYbukukwW0AJKwa7JgLT1nOnoKEwdzeu1twrkP2ztH0q88mXJ_TqQ1qAtOmVu1dUMtuBaLwODkQOJwS3Y-sbJjX5kK_Bsekchp/s320/IMG00176-20120916-1110.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dapu Primary School Banner</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjhh-WkDJnDuNFGZ_jIngMU5xEPZThToDuqPnr0ISXkHI_bgsF-2zXo9dkWfOGuDwh2L3IK9gJaDRUZwP5FQLm7C4bGBPVh7nRdJ3bQ2fGLtETzStnEYo2uXkki0eSnXPe6-T-QJKSyGU-/s1600/IMG00170-20120916-1106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjhh-WkDJnDuNFGZ_jIngMU5xEPZThToDuqPnr0ISXkHI_bgsF-2zXo9dkWfOGuDwh2L3IK9gJaDRUZwP5FQLm7C4bGBPVh7nRdJ3bQ2fGLtETzStnEYo2uXkki0eSnXPe6-T-QJKSyGU-/s320/IMG00170-20120916-1106.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don Bosco Secondary School</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flag raising ceremony</td></tr>
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I ended the day sitting on a deck chair on a best friend's balcony full of good food and wine, listening to sounds of rapturous singing in the distance and the waves breaking, reminiscing about the past year for the nation, about new beginnings and being entirely happy. I also thought about how, eventhough the parental units were in another city, I was happy to be surrounded by friends who shared this pride I have for my nation. This year the Jewish new year (Rosh Hashanah) also fell on the night of Independence day, a double blessing in my books. So Happy Independence day Papua New Guinea and L'shanah tovah!</div>
PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-21801563721080184882012-09-10T19:09:00.001+10:002012-09-10T19:12:13.413+10:00Free Will, The Adjustment Bureau and new beginnings.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I set out to write a blog not to preach but to talk about life as I see it. So, despite the title above being about free will, this is my view alone.<br />
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Free will... The ability to make a decision on your own and say yes, this is what I want to do. If you haven't watched the Adjustment Bureau, this would be the moment to do so. Forget for the moment the love story and explore what the concept of free will versus someone of a higher power controlling you is. Frankly I agree with the story line, free will did give us the dark ages and the world wars. <br />
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Free will gives us the choice to be good or choose an evil path. Sometimes the choice is blurred, other factors cloud the judgement so the right choice is not always clear. I discovered recently that there even exists a word for when every choice you make in a situation is going to be a bad one - Zugzwang.<br />
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Because you can't control the free will of others, bad things happen to you without you even having a say in it but also moments of happiness, bliss. Because you have free will, you also can (even without trying, just by ignoring other people's free will) make choices that hurt an entirely innoccent party (as a sort of knock on effect) and destroy what would have been a great friendship. These things I have learned the hard way.<br />
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But, faith in a higher being has given me hope for the future that one day, this burden of free will is going to be easier. That my choices in future won't affect other people in a bad way. <br />
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To those I have, I am sorry.</div>
PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-4612025478060210082012-08-26T08:44:00.001+10:002012-08-26T08:45:14.878+10:00Come away with me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Come away with me down a winding sealed road, through a forest, past beaches and fringe reefs to a place that the time zone forgot. A small village where the sun rises an hour after the rest of the country and sets an hour after the rest of the country.<br />
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A place of thatched roofed houses nestled on a beach with a fringe reef, where children's laughter intermingles with the sound of motorbikes. Where mobile phones with internet access are common place in string bags filled with betelnut. Where sounds of tokpisin intermingle with the local dialect and Bahasa Indonesia. Where the only radio signals for FM are Indonesian and friday night rugby is watched using a reciever dish at the local community school. Where life and death brings out a community and differences are forgotten. Where a family argument is usually loud and boisterous with the whole community knowing about it, where apologies are also usually public affairs.<br />
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Come away with me to a place where we bury the dead with sad songs in a sandy cemetary with the sea breeze blowing and blue waves crash in the background. Where children sit on the surrounding gravestones, smiling despite the solemnity of the occasion as they listen to the priest conduct the burial. Where after the burial we meet all the new babies of the community whose mothers have brought them along for the outing.<br />
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Where special days are filled with music, singing, food and beverages from house to house. Where old dutch glass beads are valued currency alongside cash. Where family ties are strengthened through adversity and through happiness. <br />
Come away with me to a clear flowing river rushing over coloured stones, where waterfalls flow and fish swim around your feet. Where hours merge while you sit beside the stream and when you stop to check the watch you note with sadness you have to go home and start dinner...<br />
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Come away home with me.....<br />
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PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-82499611007116796502012-07-29T01:32:00.001+10:002012-07-29T01:32:49.156+10:00Elections PNG Style<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Hopefully the title of this post doesn't make you cringe and go: oh no, another political commentary *rolling eyes*....Actually I'm writing this from the point of view of a first time voter. </strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>I documented briefly on my facebook page in a series of updates but I thought I'd put my thoughts on one blog post to keep it as a virtual memory.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Firstly, you may think it's sad that I am a first time voter even though I have been eligible for a decade or so but you must remember that to be eligible, I must first be registered on the common roll and have lived in that place for a continous period of six months or more (in Papua New Guinea) apart from being a citizen. Sadly school and later work made it impossible to stay stationary in one spot long enough to qualify to vote until now.</strong></span><br />
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<strong>But I finally did it. I enrolled on the common roll, very simply done with no pomp or flair. I joined the community march for free fair and safe elections and I actually listened to political speeches and promises. I lined up to vote, checked that my name was on the roll, had indelible ink painted on my left pinky and put my first, second and third choices for the regional and the open seat. I then placed my votes in the ballot boxes and went back to work.</strong><br />
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<strong>How do I feel now? Well, from this election, one candidate won his seat back with an absolute majority on the first count because of one vote..can you imagine? Meaning my vote does count. I feel I had my say but ultimately the majority will decide who wins or not because the majority will benefit. This election also saw two women enter parliament, not on reserved seats but on their own merit, in a fair race against the men. As a woman, this gives me hope that Papua New Guinea, despite all the faults portrayed by the media has been able to put traditional roles behind them and hope for a better future, an equal future. This election also saw one 26 year old beat out the pro's to become the newly elected member in his place. It also sees the old souls stand the test of the preferential voting system to clock up more than a decade as the seating member. Their longevity speaks volumes of their leadership qualities.</strong><br />
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<strong>But of all the thoughts that linger, there is but one: What is indelible ink? It looks suspiciously like henna ink...hmmmmm</strong><br />
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PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-64046095681157766582011-10-27T17:08:00.000+11:002012-04-15T08:39:23.814+10:00Taking it EASY...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, I'm crappy at blog posting..I said I was going to post once a month but its been two months since my last blog post..<br />
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It's not so bad living in a small town like this and being able to go home to the village when the mood takes me but this town seems to exist in a place that time forgot. I tune the radio and all I get is chinese radio channels apart from wantok radio light, occasional 100FM and sometimes Radio Sandaun or Radio Fly.The food on the shelves have indonesian sub-titles and the plane comes here only three times a week from Port Moresby. I've even forgotten what EMTV is like since we only watch Kundu2 here (when there is power).<br />
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I phoned home to the folks in Lae (note: Lae is home also) the other day and everyone was going on about LegendFM. First question to them: What is LegendFM? To be greeted with uproars of laughter and then empathy at my predicament (Turangu, she lives in Vanimo). I recieve a phone call from my old company and promised to read an email which is difficult without power. It's been two days since they sent the email apparently...<br />
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I'm back to ferrying water up flights of stairs due to the power shortage which lasts days on end and eating vegetarian meals because I can't store protein in a fridge that isn't working...But it's okay, you see..<br />
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My last job involved daily emails flying back and forth, daily reports to people as far away as Sydney and USA, conference calls spanning continents and the constant buzz of phone lines. My clinic shook everyday from the noise of overhead helicopters. It's nice to wake up in the morning to the sound of crashing waves on the beach and listen to little birds arguing in the roof gutter. Its nice to come to work and be greeting by smiles, greenery and the sound of children laughing in the corrider. It's nice to run on Vanimo time..<br />
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So here I am, taking it EASY so to speak.....<br />
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</div>PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-80751217825118681922011-08-05T12:07:00.000+10:002011-08-05T12:08:12.817+10:00Ode to a texting foolMiss calling and texting like you know me
<br>Had you ID yourself I might not have brought you down
<br>Sadly you crossed the line when you claimed I told you I was fat with a tait ass
<br>So of course I had to bring you down
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<br>So I text back like I'm a dude
<br>And you start doubting yourself
<br>And my sis calls you to reduce you to dust for texting her 'small bro'
<br>And you start to waiver in your confidence
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<br>And yet you still text me saying I'm a woman
<br>So I ask didn't my sister make it clear enough to you?
<br>And yet you continued the gay coversation
<br>Hence my text: Batz, gay pasin stopim, painim meri na stap
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<br>Your reply: Bats ol ba kism pan blo ol mkim na mi ksm tok2x natin
<br>Tsk tsk tsk, now your completely backtracking
<br>And now for round two, my sister rings you again
<br>To 'apologise' in case your her 'small brother's mate'
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<br>You state you randomly text the phone
<br>And that you've already deleted the number
<br>You sound fully sober and we hear remorse in your voice
<br>We also catch the accent, highly unmistakable
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<br>So to 'Peter in Rabaul'
<br>You are so not there
<br>And I am so not male
<br>But you started it
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<br>Never randomy pick up numbers of women
<br>And think its okay to text them repeatedly
<br>Never think its okay to describe them
<br>Never underestimate her capabilities
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<br>Today you feel foolish
<br>And this is my somewhat public apology you will never see
<br>So, to the texting fool
<br>Think twice next time and just say who you are.
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<br>PS. Your way off, I'm 15 kilos lighter than I used to be, fool. I won't comment on the ass:P
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Digicel PacificPNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-6373928334487417662011-07-07T18:49:00.001+10:002011-07-07T18:49:24.955+10:00Waiting on the world to changeIts been a while since I wrote anything on this blog, so much has happened...
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<br>Human nature rears its ugly head when you least expect it. Tired, emotional and unable to write about it on this blog, I choose to reflect on work while waiting on the world to change. John Mayer sure can sing the right songs.
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<br>Accident and emergency medicine has brought back the spark of love I had for this job. One I thought was fading fast. Everyday brings new patients, new cases, people who cross my path perhaps only once for the rest of their lives.
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<br> Along with it you see the heartache, people struggling to survive, women who sit shaking with fear in their eyes, badly bruised, victims of domestic violence.
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<br>Then there are moments where you can't help but smile such as a small child peers around a corner as his mother waits to pick his prescription, pure mischief on his face.
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<br>Time seems to speed up sometimes, patients become a constant blur of sound and color. And then there are times when you feel the world come to a standstill as you break bad news.
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<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Digicel PacificPNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-20141991196799026382011-05-30T17:37:00.000+10:002011-05-30T17:39:11.325+10:00What you speaking now? - Language mishaps in a border town<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZPmeBMHPhEUJloMlyKoEstvE1VnFYjvOSIqChpJpWOrrKuZ9HqqGxptQjCXYMuw6ecAaPQlrGO8W6nezxwbYndgr3B8K6udBDX6ZsV61meOvL8zzyN79ko849yY0RWRNU4OgU8xGVlQLU/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HMDA3ODYtMjAxMTA0MTEtMDYyMS5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-751326"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZPmeBMHPhEUJloMlyKoEstvE1VnFYjvOSIqChpJpWOrrKuZ9HqqGxptQjCXYMuw6ecAaPQlrGO8W6nezxwbYndgr3B8K6udBDX6ZsV61meOvL8zzyN79ko849yY0RWRNU4OgU8xGVlQLU/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HMDA3ODYtMjAxMTA0MTEtMDYyMS5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-751326" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612410511982410530" /></a></p>"Dua Minggu" I learned means two weeks in Bahasa Indonesia. Two weeks till I review a patient who lives on the Indonesian side of the divide in a place called Arso. A statement I had to get another patient to translate with a lot of hand signals and smiles.
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<br>I am multi-lingual, a side effect of being Papua New Guinean, although not as well as most. I am fluent in English and Tok Pisin and understand enough to get by with my mother's people here but oh, now I need to learn Indonesian, so the next time an old man blurts out his heartfelt thanks in Bahasa Indonesia for helping him, I hope to reply in his tongue and make him smile.
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<br>Vanimo is a border town on the coast near Indonesia. People flock here to go shopping at the border (batas in Indonesian) from all parts of Sandaun province and neighboring East Sepik after the road was opened (see a previous post on my road trip). But there is also reverse migration from Indonesia of people seeking treatment in PNG and PNG folk living in Indonesia traveling back for treatment in PNG. Hence I now am on a quest to learn enough Indonesian so I don't look like a flapping bird making hand gestures to get my message across.
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<br>Embarrassingly enough, sometimes the patient will patiently watch my flapping hand gestures, smile and then begin a conversation in Tok Pisin. So now I begin my routine by trying tok pisin, then English before resorting to disjointed Bahasa with flapping hands as an encore.
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<br>My eventual aim is to be able to write a whole blog post in Bahasa Indonesia to show off my new found brilliance and to perfect my flapping hands technique (why does it remind me of spirit fingers from cheerleader movies?????).
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Digicel PacificPNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-4147411874283270912011-04-24T20:42:00.001+10:002011-04-24T20:42:48.305+10:00Bursting water pipes and other disasters of a small town existance - recent eventsOkay, so I never said the transition was going to be easy from private practice back to the public sector and I knew a small town would have its setbacks, but its on days like this I start to see the value of waiting before jumping head first into this.
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<br>I am residing in a newly built kit home, basically a bungalow on stilts with a million dollar view of the ocean; drawback is that I wonder where the building inspector was when it was commisioned. In the middle of a nap, I heard gushing under the house, worst of all its hot water from a pipe that has come apart. Luckily, there are plumbers on hand who are working on the house next door and are able to fix the problem ASAP. Bad luck is that a second hot water pipe decides to come apart at the joint after the plumber has knocked off for the day. All I can do now is turn the water pump and the main tap and wait the two days till Monday for someone to come and fix the problem. In the meantime, I shall be ferrying water up the stairs from the laundry for cooking and other essential purposes including the odd nature call situation.
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<br>Another thing about small towns, you can't find certain things that in the city you wouldn't think twice about having around the house. You see, when I packed to come here, I did not think of purchasing stick on hooks or double sided tape. I now have paintings I can't hang (and therefore are still in bubble wrap), picture frames gathering dust and lovable old wall clock my brother gave me for a childhood birthday that is still in the box. I also can't seem to find a location to get a decent bottle of wine without being the topic of conversation with everyone that meets me.
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<br>But hey, I wake up every morning and watch the sunrise and know its going to be a brighter day because I am optimistic that this city girl will learn to tolerateif not like the slow pace.
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Digicel PacificPNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-65644739440567741182011-03-11T16:17:00.000+11:002011-03-11T16:17:05.049+11:00Forgotten pathsSo I decided to take a trip to Vanimo, located on the northern end of the PNG - Indonesian border. Typically I would fly to Port Moresby and then via Wewak. I decided it was time to change the way I travel so decided to do an epic trip... Lae to Madang by PMV, Ship from Madang to Wewak and then Wewak - Aitape - Vanimo by road....<br />
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I am back from that trip and here are a few observations/rules:<br />
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1. Ship igo, sepik igo (If the ship is going to East Sepik, sepiks will definetaly be on board) - packed like sardines in a small ship, sharing laughs with random strangers all trying to get home to East Sepik from Madang. Having never been on a passenger ship for that long period of time (the last trip I did was five hours from Lae to Finschafen) and previously always travelling by plane, I was a little alarmed at first but my cousin summed it up by saying - well, now you know how the rest of PNG travels...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the bay, Wewak</td></tr>
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2. Dad's little lecture on 'wantok system (nepotism) and networking' always pays off when your in a bind - I'm always onto dad about how much time and energy he spends feeding the bottomless pit (as I put it) of wantok system but people he knew helped out with getting from Wewak to Vanimo as the PMV's are few and far between still. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Many rivers to cross, road to Vanimo</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1lfp7f-AW9vuYzl5Za-O1PbpRqcqgsl9EgfH1T3vtC8E_wyGpf8yCEnBJqGgu4Dv2Oe950QU9MMLfqnV8gECtbZ1o5iqBbgGHxkOiIlZkpORBhejKUwNxfEo2st55gD8sgevSDL_7oxHd/s1600/IMG_0175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1lfp7f-AW9vuYzl5Za-O1PbpRqcqgsl9EgfH1T3vtC8E_wyGpf8yCEnBJqGgu4Dv2Oe950QU9MMLfqnV8gECtbZ1o5iqBbgGHxkOiIlZkpORBhejKUwNxfEo2st55gD8sgevSDL_7oxHd/s320/IMG_0175.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Down a dirt road</td></tr>
</tbody></table>3. Building a permanent road from Wewak to Aitape and Aitape to Vanimo is going to win someone an election someday or guarantee a second term in office...Why? This is a major undertaking, jokes aside...Not only does the road need to be sealed, you have to take into account the swamps, the weather and the many rivers you would have to build bridges across to get to Vanimo in one piece. I look forward to the idea of cruising on a sealed highway from Wewak to Vanimo, perhaps that would justify me getting a Mercedes. Over to you Mr Somare...<br />
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4. There is beauty everywhere....<br />
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5. If you wake up early enough, you will definetaly watch the sunrise....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6G2a0BxY5LxV-o6Z5HkcwbjIuJU2jInwzaqVJRSIRfLNN5iWBQqYa64iVPdQ-n_7LHon2J4BixpBANuF1S7ROlqVIYGJ9MtAIPc29pahxyqQEhLCFFmTwVxLvFvPVSiRQGCjmf4cA_FbG/s1600/IMG_0217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6G2a0BxY5LxV-o6Z5HkcwbjIuJU2jInwzaqVJRSIRfLNN5iWBQqYa64iVPdQ-n_7LHon2J4BixpBANuF1S7ROlqVIYGJ9MtAIPc29pahxyqQEhLCFFmTwVxLvFvPVSiRQGCjmf4cA_FbG/s320/IMG_0217.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwgvFM38S-5b05cJUHePjBI2CF1maaqEru31TAezR_u8qPJoQgNrBsoZOqrk4jkGVf0_BSI7XXesmbo0XUcrb2SkFhn3D3jr7JyL7e28LUnAcJvfmP06H46triZgxb3nSmzvGJzDdInNC/s1600/IMG_0218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwgvFM38S-5b05cJUHePjBI2CF1maaqEru31TAezR_u8qPJoQgNrBsoZOqrk4jkGVf0_BSI7XXesmbo0XUcrb2SkFhn3D3jr7JyL7e28LUnAcJvfmP06H46triZgxb3nSmzvGJzDdInNC/s320/IMG_0218.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-65463537756492341192010-11-27T18:47:00.000+11:002010-11-27T19:51:16.270+11:00Learning to live<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSE3UBs_3CNzPCzpkE8mQZzmNzI_s4XIVyZgndCSEav1I-00I8-d1aYOVI_vb8ojVwq0axvKE1EMImZ-wNHRO2ysmI2V6qFLoNmADJ0TPvN8yHyNEHXO8ubWoHuVEx36yAQNYqSoJ872EL/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HMDA0MTQtMjAxMDExMjEtMTEyNy5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-776271"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSE3UBs_3CNzPCzpkE8mQZzmNzI_s4XIVyZgndCSEav1I-00I8-d1aYOVI_vb8ojVwq0axvKE1EMImZ-wNHRO2ysmI2V6qFLoNmADJ0TPvN8yHyNEHXO8ubWoHuVEx36yAQNYqSoJ872EL/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HMDA0MTQtMjAxMDExMjEtMTEyNy5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-776271" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544149415348447410" /></a></p>A week ago I was sitting in Alotau, Milne Bay province. Now, you have to know that I'm not from there nor have I ever been there before. Getting there meant taking a leap out of my comfort zone and venturing out.
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<br> You may laugh at the thought that another part of this island of New Guinea is not venturing out but this Momase product flew to almost the tip of PNG in the opposite direction to home.
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<br>I learned that Milne Bay has skilled boat builders, furniture makers and found a renowned PNG artist in a small obscure studio whose artwork reflected his heritage.
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<br>Friends took me to see the memorial to the battle of Milne Bay and I imagined that peace filled bay lit up with gunfire. The same friends explained how the matriarchal culture influenced maternal and child health. We laughed as we tried to coax one's toddler son into smiling and smiled as his shrieks filled the air near the bay.
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<br>And along the way, I started learning how to truly live this beautiful life.
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Digicel PacificPNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-84663404169855231962010-10-27T15:59:00.000+11:002010-10-27T15:59:08.714+11:00THEY SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTERTaking a break from musing on the state of things as it's a nice rainy day here and thought I would retell a story I wrote in high school as a social commentary, titled as above: <br />
<br />
I have lived in this area for a long time. I raised a family on this street, all of whom have since left in one way or another. I am a tired old women now with grandchildren propped on my knee but my eyes have seen such terrible things that I hope you will never know.<br />
The vacant lot next door stands as a testament to a grim episode in the history of this street. In the 80's, a brand new two - bedroom house stood there, waiting for a family to occupy it. It was also around that time that the first of my five children was preparing to leave for the big wide world. We were so caught up in the excitement that we failed to notice the family that moved next door one sunny day.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I first met Eric, the son, one morning while pruning my hibiscus. He appeared as a pair of curious eyes looking at me inquisitively from behind a nearby rose bush ( in those days, there was no fence). "Hello!" I called out cheerfully in his direction. A small head slowly rose out of the bush. "Morning!" He replied and broke into a grin. Our friendship was instantly sealed.</div>I watched Eric grow into an intelligent young man, and came to rely on him for company..He was the grandson I hoped to have some day. Every new day brought with it new questions for me to answer and new discoveries to show me. I baby-sat him when his mother worked late shifts as a nurse.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Eric's father was a rising star in the public service who strove for excellence and expected Eric to do so too. When Eric started school, any slip in his grades would earn him a scolding from his mother and, ultimately, a beating from his father. But Eric's intelligence was not the kind that could be written down on a piece of paper. I noticed that he had a gift of being able to make anything grow, even my flowers flourished under his attention. This, however, did not satisfy his parents and Eric became terrified of failure.</div>At age fourteen, he evolved from a fun loving person to a moody individual, given in to occasional spurts of anger. He spent long hours muttering to my roses and studying late. Still he recieved beatings for his falling grades. I pleaded with his parents but it fell on deaf ears.."What do you know, lapun meri?" was their reply.. Eric suffered on in silence.. <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It was around this time that the drinking and the drugs started. He stopped visiting my house and began walking the streets with a group of boys every time he fought with his parents. One night, as i poured a glass of water, i heard a screeching noise and voices screaming "Eric!!!!" The glass shattered to pieces on the floor as i ran for the door. A crowd was gathering in the street, a melee of voices crying, screaming, so much confusion. In the midst was Eric's distraught mother, clinging to what was left of him.</div>No one knows what really happened that night although many say he deliberately stepped in front of the car, fueled by alcohol and marijuana. Others, including his parents maintained that it was just a bad accident. Deep down i knew he had given up on life a long time ago.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Now I sit down with my own grandson and stare at the vacant block, and i hug him close thinking about a wonderful life wasted.. They should have known better. </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_lxIixEui0rSMixYD-E2oXuiNY5s9WAo-w5EhyphenhyphenVV4PTnV5IKcEQo9S7_effpCNgBMjRi8KGKHzAiH8qR0ajcYLE-t8V7g7Gj_WM9BDycby7adXS8ocy1YJIPZJGZ7f73bTog_1U9-zVN/s1600/IMG00264-20101024-1522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_lxIixEui0rSMixYD-E2oXuiNY5s9WAo-w5EhyphenhyphenVV4PTnV5IKcEQo9S7_effpCNgBMjRi8KGKHzAiH8qR0ajcYLE-t8V7g7Gj_WM9BDycby7adXS8ocy1YJIPZJGZ7f73bTog_1U9-zVN/s200/IMG00264-20101024-1522.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-50161074153242994102010-10-02T09:32:00.001+10:002010-10-02T09:32:29.412+10:00The grass is not greener on the other side..Ever notice how when you talk to old friends, peers that everyone wants to mention the success in their lives first before you dig deeper to find the flaws. Why does human nature dictate that we put up screens to mask the truth because we feel we need to prove our worth?
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<br>And why does everyone assume private practice = get rich quick. Seriously, the next person who makes the statement: ' you must be rich' is going to hear me scream. Take a step back and look at what you have first. Wealth should not be defined by your bank statement but by how happy you are...
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<br>So consider all things before thinking someone else is luckier, because the grass is not greener on the otherside, its just a different variety.
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Digicel PacificPNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-74689334805368271392010-09-22T15:33:00.000+10:002010-09-22T15:38:29.798+10:00Good things come to those who wait.<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1692dTwSWo6dHH-IAhnDU1y-U8joZwhsAUV2emWy458_diS0Ag-TAMZr9IYCHC54pTx4BPNPU-s0f-bSYXZF03SzetEZ72kKt97JtSKmf5Qbnuecu2MC-gnbIvC_IysJIkc0ol8VIGBH9/s1600/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwMzYtMjAxMDA5MjItMTQzMi5qcGc=%3F=-709799"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1692dTwSWo6dHH-IAhnDU1y-U8joZwhsAUV2emWy458_diS0Ag-TAMZr9IYCHC54pTx4BPNPU-s0f-bSYXZF03SzetEZ72kKt97JtSKmf5Qbnuecu2MC-gnbIvC_IysJIkc0ol8VIGBH9/s320/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwMzYtMjAxMDA5MjItMTQzMi5qcGc=%3F=-709799" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519608115010464482" /></a></p>So my important lesson learned today stems from my mother's Pineapples.....
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<br> How? I've been waiting forever for the darn things to grow but it's been raining a lot for a while now and Pineapple growing + excessive rain spells zero fruit. I came back home just now and the sun's been out every day. As I was walking around the yard, I noticed pineapples growing.... FINALLY..... It amazes me that creation knows when to be fruitful and multiply or to hang back and wait for the right time to ripen.
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<br>The human affliction is such that we constantly jump the queue and rush to meet deadlines. Good things come to those who wait. Don't get me wrong, this is no justification for laziness. I am merely pointing out that there times when it would be beneficial to let the dark clouds pass so when you bloom, the sunlight leads people to that beauty... Olsem, sampla tingting tasol, u yet skelim.
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Digicel PacificPNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-39803658008327068882010-09-21T13:15:00.000+10:002010-09-21T13:19:16.503+10:00Sorting things out<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoVIBj3etRGtc9e5qItymsOTDU6egWCzlr3jUEQv92o8qp6MLL9nep2r4aagSJKObC2ItolBE94lNRmz1bU8UxVjIe9LMzzUVz3XB29g37omzoQQ3DbeF22r3TPbYFtijtwRbg6dS294PH/s1600/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwMjAtMjAxMDA5MjEtMTMxNC5qcGc=%3F=-756504"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoVIBj3etRGtc9e5qItymsOTDU6egWCzlr3jUEQv92o8qp6MLL9nep2r4aagSJKObC2ItolBE94lNRmz1bU8UxVjIe9LMzzUVz3XB29g37omzoQQ3DbeF22r3TPbYFtijtwRbg6dS294PH/s320/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwMjAtMjAxMDA5MjEtMTMxNC5qcGc=%3F=-756504" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519201153073240578" /></a></p>I've reached a stage where it's time once again to sort out my room into give away, throw away and keep piles. I do this regularly when I feel I am in need of change.
<br>Change aids progress. Granted, there are some regrets along the way such as giving away my storybook collection (my future children would have enjoyed them) but I see my old desk at my cousins and appreciate that its being put to good use.
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<br>PNG is also at a stage where we need to weed out politicians we don't need, those that should be in other roles and those that need to stay. We are overdue as a nation for spring cleaning.
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Digicel PacificPNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-53121192702608936002010-06-23T08:16:00.000+10:002010-06-23T08:16:46.635+10:00Thinking outside the boxI love my current job but looking through papers for job applications in my field, the big thing they all want is<br />
1. Experience<br />
2. Credentials<br />
Having only been in the workforce for the last 4 years, i'm not exactly big on experience. Credentials in my field always means: have you had post graduate training? The process in this country involves service registry (one year or more) before you can apply to do anything so thanks for asking if i'm a specialist but please stop. Graduating from medical school does not automatically mean you can now specialise. It means on average 2 years of service registry and then a four year masters program (if you are successful with your applications and the bosses agree). Hence, when you graduate with a masters degree, you would have had 5 years at medical school, 2 years residency (internship), average 2 - 3 years service registry (once you have found a position to do service registry) and then four years masters. In total, 14 - 15 years after starting uni.<br />
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Not that your doing nothing, the whole time you will be working and doing calls at night. Depending on the size of the hospital, in some places you may be oncall 2 nights in a row, alternate nights, etc. Sometimes you may find that you have to turn to private services for employment and then have to treck the long road back to public service as it's the only way to get training in PNG. <br />
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When I was in medical school, I had the perfect path planned out (in fact, everyone did)- finish medical school, 2 years residency, 2 years service registry and apply for masters training and be a consultant by my early 30's. Woe to those who stray to private practice, the land of greed, fast cars and a no care attitude. Funny how life, as the americans say, 'throws a curveball at you'. Two years into private practice (after residency) and I can say, its not so bad. I still practice medicine and my blood pressure and stress levels are well controlled plus I still give the same level of care as I did in public service. Granted there are horror stories about private practice and people having to pay large sums of money on the spot before recieving emergency medical attention (this is why it amuses me to see people whinge at paying K2 or roughly 66 US cents for a public accident and emergency fee to be seen). <br />
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I wonder if I apply for a public position, whether the selection committee will see my meagre credentials and private practice experience as weighing heavily against being selected for a service registry position, the first step to a specialty. But hey, if you dont jump in and find out, you will never know, so wish me well. In the meantime, I am stopping to smell the roses along the way.PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-36039211863747263522010-05-29T12:03:00.000+10:002010-05-29T12:03:46.415+10:00Wantok system, PNG time and going overboardBefore I begin, you need to know the following things:<br />
<br />
1. Wantok system - this is the system in Papua New Guinea that traditionally means you have support from your 'wantoks' (i.e relatives, people from the same area or, if your in a different country - people from your home country) when you need help with something and vice versa. The negative implication of that is what is reffered in western circles as nepotism.<br />
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2. PNG Time - this is usually 1 hour after the time appointed. It works well in PNG because everybody is switched on to the same time.<br />
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Now, this system has worked quite well for so long because time didn't really matter that much. As long as it got done today (i.e before the sun set) things were okay. Well, now with western influence, we have to change. I don't mean change completely and lose our identity but learn to differentiate between when PNG time and wantok system is okay, and when you are going overboard.<br />
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For example, I'm sure you've been in a very long queue growing by the minute and someone has skipped the queue because he knows the person at the counter. Frustrating isn't it. Or someone has to come do some work for you and turns up three hours after they were supposed to. Worse, they turn up and then ask to use your phone/borrow stationary/etc instead of doing their job.<br />
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My only statement is that if you've experienced the above, don't do it to others...... The more people who think like that, the better for PNG.PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-68444461351997601912010-05-16T22:30:00.000+10:002010-05-16T22:30:29.924+10:00Social NetworkingMy email inbox is full to the brim with Google Buzz, Facebook updates, etc. Why? Because I decided to join social networking online and and that's why i have a whole pile of emails that are basically designed to tell me that so and so have 'liked' my status update. OR, joy of joys, someone has tagged me and 10 other people on a funny photo and 500 million people have decided to write a comment beggining with lol, hahaha, etc..<br />
<br />
The constant headache of screening my emails has been relieved somewhat by the fact I have cleaned up my friend lists. While undertaking this task, i learnt a few truths:<br />
1. Why am i friends with people I do not know and have never chatted with even after i accepted friend requests from this people?<br />
2. Just because I have 25 friends in common with you, doesnt mean we automatically know each other. But that doesnt mean i dont want to get to know you:)<br />
3. Someone's profile picture is actually a great judge of character. Think about it......<br />
4. I hate it when people write long details in their info section on facebook. Seriously, this not your CV. Let us get to know you and find out for ourselves. It makes life more interesting. Besides, aren't you afraid someone might steal your identity?<br />
5. It's addictive. Seriously, if it gets to the point that you are checking facebook 5- 6 times a day and you get an immense joy out of seeing that you have notifications, you have issues.<br />
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Online social networking is here to stay but if your online 24 - 7, you miss out on the real world around you.PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-10941040995026437942009-12-01T00:16:00.003+11:002009-12-01T00:58:46.035+11:00Think before you speakDid you know that more than 80% of health care in PNG is provided by health workers other than doctors? These workers include CHW's (community health workers) formely known as aid post ordelies, Nursing staff, HEO's (health extension officers) which are known as paramedics in other countries, Village birth attendents, etc.<br /><br />This group of people provide the driving force behind the rural health services in this country. These people are still there when doctors go home to sleep (mind you, it does help that in hospitals, nurses have 8 hour shifts, compared to 24hours on duty if you are a doctor).<br /><br />I have noticed many a time that they are not given the respect they deserve by the public. Take urban clinics and outpatient departments, for example. They are harrassed by people wanting to be seen quickly and people complain how slow these health workers are. If these same people take the time to observe their surroundings, perhaps they will notice that the ratio of patients to health staff maybe (on a busy day) 300+ patients : 2-3 health workers. Then try and apply this ratio to another profession, say education, perhaps. 300+ students to 2 - 3 teachers means roughly 100 students per teacher in one classroom per day. Outrageous isn't it? Consider for a moment what this ratio means to your own profession. Treating 300+ people can wear the smile off anyone's face when you're constantly harassed along the way.<br /><br />So, next time you require medical attention, STOP, take a step back and observe the situation in the clinic you attend before you fire verbal abuse at the health workers there.PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-50674370876520341042009-11-24T23:32:00.002+11:002009-11-24T23:43:19.958+11:00Government Spending Priorities - Where your hard earned tax dollars are going to.<a href="http://www.thenational.com.pg"></a> If you happened to notice the front page of the national newspaper today, you would have seen the new jet Air Nuigini brought into the country which is going to be leased by the National Government to ferry the selected few on government business.<br /><br />Well, last week we read about the budjet break up and i noticed that health on a whole had recieved a substantial amount broken up between the health department, hospital spending, etc. Although i am glad the funding has improved, i noted with some trepidation that the budjet was done with an estimated cash flow from the LNG project included in in.. It remains to be seen whether the health department will recieve the total intended budjet.<br /><br />Amazing how the government saw fit to hire a jet, spending millions of kina on a small minority while the rest of the nation has to rely on a budjet that includes a project that has not fully kicked off the ground.. I am not an economist but i would suggest we not count our chickens before they have hatched..<br /><br />Something to think about...PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7127512258280967507.post-61493906860077412622009-11-12T01:28:00.002+11:002009-11-12T02:09:35.459+11:00There is such a thing as an unemployed doctorSo, you shocked by the title? Well, it's true... I used to be one. After residency, you have to apply for service registry.. in other words, you serve the people.. Being naive, i applied for positions at one hospital alone which was way back in late december last year.. I just found out a few weeks ago that my applications were all unsucessful...<br /><br />What happened? I have no idea but I now know that I should have applied everywhere even if most hospitals are not advertising grade 10 postions (the lowest service registry grading you have to start at).. So i am hitting the paper trail.. I plan on writing to every public hospital i can think of.. somewhere out there, someone needs a doctor..<br /><br />In the meantime, working in private health care pays the bills plus i get to practice medicine and improve my people skills... Smile now :)PNG creaturehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07750364882938689932noreply@blogger.com0