Story and Pictures by Susan Merrell

Greetings from Papua New Guinea.

As Air Nuigini flight PX2 came in for landing at Jacksons Airport in PNG’s capital Port Moresby the PNG national resplendent in his colourful striped beanie sitting behind me let out an excited whoop.

“My country, my Papua New Guinea,” he said very loudly and rapturously

“Expect the unexpected, land of surprises,” he continued enthusiastically citing every tourist board slogan that he could remember in his advanced intoxicated state.

When the aircraft came to a halt on the tarmac, he stood.

“Welcome to Papua New Guinea,” he said to all and sundry, arms outstretched to the applause of a half-empty plane.

While I don’t quite share this man’s unbridled enthusiasm for the country, nevertheless I am somewhat intoxicated by it.

This is my third trip this year.

Those of you who have followed my writing and read my articles (thank you) will have noticed that more and more of my focus has been directed to the Pacific.  It started with my association with Sir Trevor Garland, the Honorary Consul-General of the Solomon Islands, through to the Julian Moti affair and beyond.

Much more than Australia, it has been the Pacific countries that have embraced me and my writing and I now find that I am published much more in the Pacific than in Australia.  My association with the Pacific has also enabled me to branch out into radio and television. I have contributed to radio in Solomon Islands, PNG, Vanuatu and Fiji and Television in PNG.

So here I am in Port Moresby again, in the foyer of the Crowne Plaza Hotel (which I call the Crowne prison because it’s too dangerous for a woman on her own to venture outside).  So what’s the fascination I hear you ask?

And you know, that’s a bloody good question.  The place is extremely dangerous, too dangerous even to catch a taxi.  In the capital cities it’s best that I have a bodyguard when I venture out, even in broad daylight – can you believe that?  Of course I do stand out like the proverbial ‘dog’s balls’ – white skin, blonde hair.  Here, I’m exotic – which is something I’ve always aspired to, but in PNG it’s not a good idea to look different or rich – and yes, in PNG I look rich too.  Extreme poverty is rife.

But for a journalist the politics and the issues here make the Australian socio-political landscape look like sliced white bread – all a bit bland.

PNG is a country that has been dragged screaming into modernity and only some of it. Over 80% of the country still subsists. Some of the more remote areas (and there are a lot of them) still have no electricity. There are precious few roads and most areas have to be accessed by air. The main highways, such as they are, are often impassable. Health care and education is very piecemeal indeed. Ironically, you really take your life in your hands going to a hospital in PNG. When the Prime Minister, Sir Michael Somare got sick and needed heart surgery, he went to Singapore. No one has ever accused the Grand Chief of being stupid – corrupt, yes, stupid, no.

Which brings us to the subject of corruption.  It’s rife in PNG at all levels. Greg Anderson, the head of the Chamber of Mines in Port Moresby likens it to a mafia with tentacles that reach out widely.

Corruption is a by-product of ‘the resources curse’ apparently, and PNG has been surviving on the proceeds of investment in its resources since independence in 1975.  Many people are becoming rich on the back of PNG resources – except the people of PNG – although the economy is doing well with PNG’s GDP about to double thanks to the $15 million PNG Liquified Natural Gas project headed by the multi national Exxon Mobil. And the government is managing the economy well with the country experiencing significant economic growth – delivery of services they aren’t so good at  – shame about the people still dying of preventable diseases in such a rich country.

It’s not so surprising that in this scenario crime is rife and law and order issues are significant. If the major contributing factor is poverty, the prevailing tribal mentality also contributes. Tribal fights break out with regular monotony at the drop of a hat.  Arms hacked off, people killed and this is at a market place in Port Moresby.

Ancient superstitions are still practiced – although now there are laws against them.  Not that long back, beyond the 1930s, some of the tribes were cannibals. Eating human flesh was usually a magical ritual. When in February of this year a man was caught eating his baby daughter alive, it was ‘sorcery’ that was blamed.  The baby died. Thank goodness it was just a girl. (That was an ironic comment in case anyone believes I was serious!)

Attitudes to women here are disgusting.  Many consider a female has less value than a pig. A ‘bride price’ is paid for a wife and she’s a man’s possession and not a very prized one at that. Domestic violence is rife at 70% overall. In some areas it reaches to 100%. It’s accepted and has become normalised. Sexual violence towards all females is high with many women saying that they wouldn’t bother to report rape unless it was a gang rape. Rape is no big deal – not to the men anyway. Police are part of the problem, often perpetrators themselves. There are laws that protect women in PNG it’s just that no one takes notice of them.

When I was last in PNG I spent a day at Bomana prison interviewing 11 women murderers.

Of the thirty-eight inmates, thirty-six were in for murder. Yet, murder is not a female crime. But all of these women had been the victims of prolonged domestic violence before the worst of circumstances created murderers of them.

All had either killed their husbands or the other wives or girlfriends of the husband, hoping getting rid of their rivals would stop the man beating them–  (polygamy and promiscuity is rife). All had the scars that proved their stories. When, in the telling,  their stories came to the part where they’d killed, especially if it was their husband, “what took you so long?” was my usual question. I suggest that many of these women would have been found innocent by way of justifiable homicide were they tried elsewhere and not in PNG.

The great irony and shame of all this is that PNG is, geo-physically, one of the most beautiful countries. With Port Moresby being just a three-hour flight from Sydney and less than an hour from Cairns, tourism ought to be flourishing.  Even the ‘Crowne Prison’ in the centre of grotty downtown Port Moresby is on a hill at the centre of a peninsular with the port on one side and the beach on the other – stunning.  Sunsets to die for.

You just need to look past the mean streets that are stained with bright red ‘Buai’ spittle (Betelnut – a national past time.)  The habit of chewing and spitting “buai’ is responsible for the spread of Tuberculosis which has had a few break-outs recently.  Apparently the spittle evaporates in the heat and rises and people breathe in the contaminated air.

On Tuesday, I’ll be going to Madang on the north coast to hear the judgment in a court case involving mining and the environment handed down. I could stay in Port Moresby and get the information second hand but Madang is so gob-smackingly beautiful that you’d have to be mad to miss any opportunity to spend time there.

So many stories, so many surprising contrasts. Papua New Guinea, expect the unexpected.  (Oh my God, I think I’m channelling my bright-beanied fellow air passenger).