"they eat policemen for breakfast"

“never ever go into a settlement and specially not into Sissiak settlement – they eat policemen for breakfast there” all the same made it at last along with the local councillor so I was able to admire the large primary school with new classrooms being built, admire the health clinic and chatted to many friendly residents and children. We avoided two or three drunken Yoofs but were able to get a beer ourselves as we made our way. One large area had been cleared a few years ago and the bush had been growing back and small houses were clearly being erected again – so all in all alittle disappointing but another settlement ticked off my list.Bit different last Friday when I was mugged for the first time, at 4pm on the main road between our nearest shop and my compound. Someone dashed up behind me and grabbed my plastic shopping bag, I naturally tightened my grip, the bag tore and he made off through a hole in the fence as the contents spilt onto the ground. Another pedestrian joined me in shouting at the rapidly vanishing ‘rascol’ and helped me pick up the undamaged tins of beer. Moral: don’t carry alcohol about in a clear plastic bag. Sadly my umbrella was damaged in the fray – my luxury item that opens by itself when a button is pressed but at least it still works in a fashion

A Saturday trip out to Amele with a Japanese volunteer who had been before and a waiter I had met in Port Moresby and was now working in Madang for a few weeks. We got a truck outside the market, it had a canvas roof for shade and with the fresh air and good views an enjoyable ride up into the hills. We walked up to a primary school where the Japanese boy had already been as part of his tourism work and marvelled at the stunning views across the Gogol river to distant mountains. The school itself had a couple of classes being taken despite it being Saturday since they were getting ready for the exams in a fortnight’s time so we were able to chat to a couple of the teachers and also establish that the contacts in the ‘village’ whose names I had were both about five kilometres away so we just walked back to the road and waited with some local blokes for a truck going back to town. On board eventually, we were given a coconut each, chopped open with a bush knife for drinking as our waiter colleague fobbed off some girlfriend waiting for him back in town on his mobile.

Oh, nearly forgot...some kids in the Council's plant nursery called me over when shopping to see what they had caught ... a baby crocodile from the town centre Sir Donald Cleeland lilly lagoon! about 800mm long, I took his photo but he closed his eyes at the wrong moment. I suggested they might put him back before its mother and father come looking for him.

the Gogol valley from Amele

Lawe, Pat and kzuki on 'bus'

Jomba islanders

the law of the jungle

Into the hills again, not by bus but in the back of a pick-up whose driver is recognised by my guide from the Council’s plant nursery.  So, up to the end of the road at Sein village, a few traditional houses set around what could almost be described as a village green and with the church (Lutheran) at one end.  But we are here to see the fabled caves, so another kilometre or so walking and scrambling up and down ravines in the jungle – occasional views out to distant hills but well shaded so not too hot. 

Then the cave, winding its way casually with its stream through the mountain and we wade along with torches illuminating the chattering bats and the stalactites.  As the cave bursts out of the cliff, a waterfall into an inviting pool shaded by the forest – so a swim before climbing back to the village and the long walk down to the main road for a bus back home.

On the Sunday, with so few busses, a quick boat trip across to Biliau Island where a resident rushes down to tell us to go away because the Sepik clan are coming for a fight at two o’clock.  So enough time to look around although things are fairly tence with groups of young men, all with their bush knives (that look so much like cutlasses) parading around.  It seems that the boat accident yesterday when one skiff ploughed into another and the innocent pilot had lost his head from the outboard propeller had led to a need, in the tok pisin language for “payback”.   The offended clan were apparently intent on rape and pillage.  We do leave before kick-off and there is no news about the event in the papers the next day so hopefully no-one  was killed this time.  Never mind, the islanders are all due to lose their homes in the interests of the city centre airport expansion next year unless a pesky town planner can put a spanner in the works!

ps cured frozen keys with an on-screen keyboard at home and a plug in keyboard at the office but now can't add photos for some reason (grrr r).  will try to solve for next edition :-)