TEPTEP 3 Hobbit houses

Intrepid explorer

Hobbit houses

and another

Teptep landscape

Well they would be Hobbit houses if Hobbits didn’t live in caves. Like haystacks with a door at one end, a small window on one side and a hole near the gable for the smoke from the fire. Inside it is one large, dark room but with balconies for sleeping and storing things. The village centre of course has the richer, tin houses inherited from the missionaries and colonial explorers. A walk to the next village where the Lutheran church is, more hobbit houses, plenty children wanting their photos taken and a primary school with a teacher compiling a register for the new term. Back at the guest house a cold shower in the woods – Invigorating must be the word, recall that cold dip at the Alternative Technology Centre in Wales (which I had restrained myself from indulging in). One curious aspect of Teptep life is the yodelling like cockerels crowing across the valleys, mostly but not exclusively men I wasn’t able to establish whether it amounted to anything more than just advertising one’s presence. Finally, and then I will stop babbling on about Teptep……
Life, but not as we know it
No phones, mobile or landline.- no internet – no radio – television? what’s that? – no toilet paper – no electricity – no cars or bikes – no roads – no newspapers – no banks or post office – no secondary school – no tea or coffee – no milk or bread – no clocks – no alcohol – no litter – no hot water – no mirrors
True that there is a radio telephone connection from the airport to the Missionary Aircraft Flight office in Madang and a small scale hydro power installation for the clinic and a few houses but otherwise we might as well be on another planet. I do, however get an insight into two annoying (or endearing?) PNG habits - Teptep residents throw there rubbish all over the place Just as Madang people do, the only difference is that the Teptep rubbish is all biodegradable and ready food for local insects and wildlife. Secondly, with no clocks time is simply morning, afternoon and nighttime. In Madang, meetings and appointments follow the same format but with the added complication of clock times being quoted for no particular reason.

Teptep 2

Down Into the village with my guide (and bodyguard?) Titu, who is looking after the guesthouse and me as its sole occupant while the owner is away in Madang. Titu is 30 years old unmarried but has a girlfriend and like most of the population never made it to secondary school though he speaks four languages well and a couple of others not so well. The local language in the village is spoken in only four villages. The village “singsing” event that we heard yesterday afternoon and through the night is still in progress on the primary school field – red painted bodies, grass skirts and elaborate headdresses. I take photos, am introduced to the Lutheran Pastor and to the village clinic boss. The local government office is closed “they are down on the coast at Saidor or in Madang”. At the airport I put my name down for next week’s flight – no ticket, no receipt “I’ll inform Madang office on the radio telephone” Titu had offered to accompany me on foot for the two day walk down to Saidor where one can catch a boat with an outboard motor for the 4 hour trip to Madang but walking about these hills I’m already feeling weak and old – (trust it’s just being 2000 metres up that my body is not used to). One of the two village stores is closed, the other opens on request to display empty shelves apart from a bag of rice and some dry biscuits which we buy. Around the village pathside traders provide copious amounts of carrots, cauliflowers, other greens and fruits like oranges and avocadoes. The walk back to the guesthouse is tiring though I have a couple of ten minute rests – a heart attack up here would do nobody any good ! In the afternoon I go for a sleep, after being warned not to answer the door to anyone. Neither of my mobile phones is working, nor my internet dongle and with no electricity would not have lasted long anyway but could have saved on carrying so much weight. I introduce Titu to chess which seems productive, he is interested and quick to learn. He threatens to climb over the mountain ridge to another village tomorrow in search of sugar together with coffee or tea which ‘waitman’ must be needing though I say not to bother given all tye fruits that we’ve got. It seems too that the proper jungle is 3 or 4 miles away and whilst younger, fitter visitors have been I’m clearly not going to make such a precipitous excursion so no tree kangaroos snakes or cassowaries for me this time. Our neighbour has a single cassowary being fattened up for some feast but that’s it

The Airport

Sing Sing

Airfield again

Teptep 1

still internet probs - so from VSO HQ (they have satelite dish)

Plane to Teptep forecast for Wednesday but message on Monday says plane is “bagerup” (a common complaint in Papua New Guinea). Another plane has been found however and will fly on Tuesday at dawn. So Tuesday morning am sitting beside the young German pilot, keeping my hands off the dual controls and with 2 other passengers in the back seat. The engine sounds like a grass cutter and we fly slowly along the coast past Basamuk where the waste from the new Nickel mine is being dumped into the sea before turning up into the Finistere hills. We weave in and out of the steep sided forested valleys with rushing rivers till we see Teptep below us in a valley. We circle round to make a direct landing uphill on the grassy slope to be met by a hundred or more people – mostly children but also people with fruit and vegetables to be shipped down to the Madang supermarkets and resorts.

The guest house is said to be close by, and as a crow flies so it is but for me, a 3 km walk up and down slippery ravines, crossing wild streams. Glad I have a guide from the airstrip to find the way and help with my suitcase. The guesthouse itself is a rickety but attractive affair perched on tenuous stilts, thatched and with a stunning view across the village to the steep slopes up to the ridge above. No network access for the laptop or the mobiles, should have left them behind and packed some more warm clothes, maybe that’s why VSO do not have any programmes up here. I huddle round (if one person can do that) the fire in the centre of the room, watching the smoke curl its way through the hole in the ceiling and look forward to a good night’s sleep. The sing-sing birthday party in the village is still going and I should really go down to see it but those slippery paths in the dark? I think not! Am told it will go on till dawn with its rhythmic chanting and drums

ps good to see the pictures of Rebecca’s birthday bash – looks to have been a memorable affair!

Path to guest house

Guest house entrance

Guesthouse from ravine