Purpose Asia

Taking off from the airstrip near Ukararumpa  Tendrils of cloud wrapped around the bony shoulders of the hills like a cotton wool shawl. Tiny villages teetered on sharp ridges that leapt down to deep shadowed ravines below. Early morning mist and fog had crept along the ground and swirled around our rumbling Kodiak plane as we sat on the dirt airstrip waiting for takeoff. As I looked across the field to the surrounding hills I saw a thin shaft of sunlight caressing the hill and trees overlooking the airfield. This is my home, I thought, with its casava and coffee, cicadas and mud, mist and mystery. My heart ached. I already missed my new home and I hadn't even left yet. I was leaving and I didn't know when I'd return. An urgent family emergency had called me back to the USA and I sat in the murky uncertainty of the future, much like the clouds that covered the runway. I hoped that my unknowns would dissipate much as the clouds began to dissipate and the engine of the Ko...

Market at Ukarumpa      I tumble into the front door of my apartment (called a "flat" here in Papua New Guinea (PNG) due to the Australian influence) and make a bee-line for the kitchen. I put down my keys and bilum  and survey my kitchen like a general assessing his troops. What's for lunch? I ask myself as my eyes scan my basket full of produce, the cabinets and refrigerator. Lots of people ask me what types of things I eat here in PNG. My response is generally, "What don't I eat here." Frozen Crocodile Tail      Often when I get asked what I eat in PNG, I imagine from their expectant looks that they anticipate me answering with the outlandish, such as: "monkey brains," "Giant tree ants roasted over the fire," or "deep sea squid cooked in casava root." However, the food here in Papua New Guinea, although delicious, is actually very plain. The most exotic things I've eaten (other than the unusual fruits and vegg...

Lone Tree -- a hill that's popular for hiking that's behind my house in Papua New Guinea Most Americans are aware of the Tomb for the Unknown Soldier that can be found in our nation’s capital city. This silent monument to those who have died in anonymity in the defense of our country is a poignant and powerful reminder of the cost of our freedom and safety. However, recently I was struck by the reality of another group of people who live and die in obscurity to save not only physical lives, but also the eternity of those around them. In my new home in Papua New Guinea (PNG) there is a hill where missionaries have been buried over the years. Several weeks ago I ranged over the hill reading headstones and taking in the solemnity of those who’ve given their lives to bring God’s word and the gospel to my new country. Suddenly I happened upon the outline of a grave but this one was different. It had no headstone to announce who was laid to rest in this place. The grass po...

Rice baskets ready to boil for dinner I glanced out our kitchen window as I placed the clean and dripping dishes on the table to dry. Our host Papa walked up with his woven basket tucked under his arm and a procession of young men carrying giant coconut fronds and a gaggle of other family and friends from the village trailing behind him. “ Mi kam long lainim yu olsem wanem yu wokim mat (I’ve come to teach you how to make a mat),”  he called up as he waved directions to the young men to lay down the coconut fronds. “ Mipela bai kam (we’ll come),” I replied as I hastily dried my hands on a towel and poked my head into the next room of our house. April was working on an assignment as I let her know that Papa had arrived to teach us to weave mats. We joined Papa below, and he set to teaching us how to weave a young coconut frond with an older branch to get a woven mat of two colors. Was Papa  and me with the finished mat! He patiently helped us wor...

Since our arrival in the village of Wargiden our Host Papa had been telling us that he’d have the ladies of the village teach us the village’s traditional dances so that we could have a Tumbuna Singsing (a traditional celebration and dance) before we left. True to his word, Papa summoned us to his veranda facing the sea. We arrived to find the ladies of the village talking in excited whispers as a few men of the village thumped experimentally on their kundu (drums) to ensure they were in tune. dancing with our village family Tumbuna Singsing style Soon, April and I had been guided into one of two lines to stand behind one of our host sisters or cousins to learn the steps of the traditional dances. Flowers were pressed into our hands and the ladies quieted down, waiting for the drums to begin. Thump, thump, thump. The drums began to pound as the men sang out strong in the captivating and ancient sounding strains of Wargiden’s traditional song. April and I did our best to follo...

      Gardens are a key part of life here in Papua New Guinea (PNG). Most Papua New Guineans scoff at the idea of getting all of your food from a grocery store. They will tell you, with a hint of pride in their voice, that although they have to work hard to clear, plant and tend a garden, they get all of their food for free. Each family in PNG has whole swathes of land that have belonged to their family or clan for generations, and each section is carefully passed down to the children (sons or daughter depending on the area) in each. Our host sister Philda told us that each family generally has at least 3-4 gardens with different kinds of food in each: cooking bananas, kaukau (sweet potatoes), yams, kumu (greens), buai (beetlenut that is chewed with lime and a green plant called daka for a caffeine-like buzz) and much more. Sometimes families have one plot of land that is just for cash crops like coconuts, buai or tobacco and the rest of their land is for day-to-day ...