The Old Ways Clash With the New

Madang, Papua New Guinea

Day 53 at Sea; February 27, 2011

 Rainy, but warm. Very warm—and humid. Madang is the capital of Papua New Guinea. As we came off the ship and walked out into the town we were met by hundreds of children and adults smiling and waving, greeting us as if we were rock stars.  Most of the adult men and women had red teeth, stained from drinking a Beetle Nut concoction. Startling to see.  Of course this is how Bloody Mary got her name.  Many had set up mats on which they displayed handmade items to sell.

I was walking with Sharon and Allan, a couple who are well traveled. Ron had gone on an excursion so I was left to wander around town. The unpaved streets were muddy and full of ruts. A family of ten: An older man, one of his two wives and ten children followed us for several blocks. They left us when he discovered we had no Beetle Nuts and had nothing to give him.  The people didn’t beg. They were very friendly, but they did walk expectantly beside people. The town’s natural beauty—lush and green and tropical made up for the trash, the police presence, the run-down buildings and the obvious poverty.

The volcanic region is in the Pacific Ring of Fire and has many high peaks and active volcanoes.  There are some resorts and a hotel. Many of the houses are built on stilts. We walked to the war memorial along the botanical gardens and back into town. The humidity totally zapped me so I could hardly wait to get back to the ship.  Again people were very nice and willing to help.  There were very few street signs so our map did us very little good.  Very little had been done here as far as building goes since WWII allied forces took the island over from the Japanese.  What little building that was done happened mainly in coastal towns after the war.  The town was destroyed and many killed in the heavy fighting here between Japanese and allied troops.  

Despite the friendly smiles, there is a sort of sadness here that maybe comes with the advent of modern times into a land whose people hold to the old ways and are stuck in between. The digital age has arrived here, but you don’t see as many cell phones as you do ads for digicel and the internet experience. 

Ron had a better experience as he was asked to escort a tour up into the mountains.  There are still tribes here that adhere to their old customs.  Pigs are the primary currency and women are a commodity. A man can have as many as he wants, and usually trades in pigs. 

Children and adults came out to the ship on whatever floats and lingered there as passengers tossed them gifts of shirts, candy. They would dive from their broken-down crafts, canoes, dugouts.  For me it was bitter sweet—they were so happy to have something—anything.  At the same time I wondered how much happier they might have been if they had never been exposed to life in modern world. 

Sailing on again—in luxury wondering what will happen to these people—hoping that in time, since there is no going back, that life can be better.