Week 1 Part 4: Oh the Stories We’ll Tell

     Our first week was feeling like such a whirlwind by the time the weekend came along. Saturday afternoon we plopped down on our veranda after a full day of swimming to a small island just off the shore, learning to pilot a canoe and doing laundry. Not long after we’d sat down, our host sister Philda came with a gaggle of children. She had discovered how much we liked to sing and had promised to bring the children of the village to come and teach us some new songs. They piled onto our veranda, spilling over into our house and hanging from every doorway. Soon they began to sing and clap and teach us their Sunday school songs and worship songs. It was so neat to hear them discuss which songs to sing and then to break into song with their sweet voices mingling together in Papua New Guinean harmonies. It was truly precious and brought tears to my eyes. This was to be the first of many times during our time in the village we would spend time singing with our friends and “family” there.

     After the children finished their singing the adults started to filter up onto our veranda, offering us plates of food and asking us questions about our homes, work and families. Much like anyone, the people of Papua New Guinea (PNG) love to stori (either tell stories or just talk to find out more about you and your life and family). They loved to see pictures of our families and home countries and they asked questions about what life is like in our home country including customs, foods, people and so much more. We in turn asked them about life in PNG, their families and work and customs. They eagerly shared about PNG and offered to tell us some of their tumbuna stories (legends, ancestral stories). We listened with rapt attention as men and women alike masterfully recounted ancient stories that had been passed from generation to generation. There were stories about the origins of fish, trees, coconuts and birds and stories about heroes, villains and magic. Later, one of our relatives would come and let us record some of the stories of Wargiden specifically about how fire was brought to the area, about the call of one of the local birds and about the way coconuts came to be. Each tale was colorful and captivating and April and I were delighted at each new story. By the time we went to sleep that night we felt we had been included in the heart of this wonderful village in their song and stories and felt a joy and anticipation about the coming weeks with our family in Wargiden.