Firefly Light

As you watch fireworks to welcome in the new year, I’ll be celebrating in Kapuna, probably with a bonfire. Fireworks capture our imagination, as beautiful lights against the night sky. I am saddened by people who watch them through their camera, trying to catch the beauty of transience for posterity and so missing out on the moment. 

Some things are so beautiful that they are best enjoyed in the moment and cherished internally forever. They are not meant for photos or facebook, but are images and emotions for our soul to keep a record of. For me, these moments have often involved water, night time and lights. 

The moon rising under the bow of a ship under full sail, the black silhouette of sails against the glowing red circle, punctuated with stars.  

Dolphins riding the bow wave and trailing phosphorescence, giving credence to stories of mermaids. 

A still, moonless, cloudless night when the horizon went missing and we drifted among the stars. 

360⁰ of lightning storms strobing around us. 

The first hint of dawn after a long night on watch. 

The rising crescent moon like a fiery sail.  

Meteor showers that trail across the sky. 

The mystical curtain of Aurora Australis. 

A thunderstorm across a bay, reflecting the glow of the setting sun and pouring rain down on a city.  

The fireflies of Kapuna. 

Twice now we have been out on the river to see the fireflies. They have favourite trees which they congregate on, a delicate and dancing ball of lights, more mystical than any human creation or imagination. Drifting, balancing, falling, rising, landing on us as tiny yellow lights. All human efforts at fairy lights in trees now seem crass. 

Drifting on the river with friends, drinking milo, singing, laughing, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. The half moon reflecting off shiny palm branches, then hiding behind a cloud. The silhouette of a bat, like a mini pterodactyl. Venus setting and looking like an oncoming plane. Distant lightning forking across the sky. Orion appearing from the jungle in his eternal hunt of Taurus and Pleiades … and fireflies creating the most beautiful Christmas lights you’ll ever see. 

The second time we went there was no moon and the night was still. Firefly covered trees could be seen glowing in the distance, perfectly reflected in the water, alongside their distant starry companions. Once again we enjoyed the company of friends and the treat of chocolate, then we drifted in silence, awed at the beauty of creation.  

Happy New Year!

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us...

I love Christmas as it is a celebration of two of my favourite (and related) mysteries of the faith: incarnation and Immanuel. These are the mysteries that God who is always with us is the same God who took on human flesh and walked among us at a specific point in history as the man Jesus. A God who knows what it is to be human and who loves us unconditionally, as no human can.

It is also a reminder to me of why I love giving my time and energy to Bible translation. In translation we are part of an incarnational ministry. We slowly become part of a community, learning language and culture. Although translation is our purpose, that is wrapped in many activities that respond to a community’s need and helps them to grow. Translation itself takes something foreign and makes it local. It gives birth to God’s word in another language and through that, in people’s hearts.

The birth of the babe at Bethlehem is the ultimate translation, as that was when the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. May that child-sized faith take root in you and grow to an adult-sized faith that can take on the challenges of the life in a fallen yet redeemed world, knowing that we are never alone, but are always loved by Immanuel, God-with-us.

Joy to the world indeed!

Walk to work, Koriki style

Kapuna Hospital grounds

As we work on teaching literacy through Uniskript in the Koriki language, we are living at Kapuna Hospital and walking to work at Ara’ava each day.

Leaving in the morning, we wind our way through the Kapuna compound, following the skinny concrete paths designed to save you from sinking into the mud after rain, between staff houses, past the wards and the maternity waiting dorm. Patients in PNG hospitals have to be self supporting, so the families who are looking after them also need somewhere to sleep, cook, do laundry etc. We pass the series of buildings for families to stay in, one building per language group that uses this hospital. We are then nearly at the edge of the property, with just the classroom to go as this is a teaching hospital for community health workers. Student dorms, the store, the workshop and more staff housing are elsewhere on the property.

Sago making spot

As we walk towards Ara’ava, the path is often muddy from overnight rains (this is the dry season!), so I have to watch my step else I slip and fall. The path follows the river downstream and is lined with gardens of banana and sweet potato. There is also a spot for making sago, with its distinctive red-orange leftovers everywhere.

The bridges over the numerous creeks feeding into the river vary in quality. Some have metal on top, left-overs from WWII. Others are a single log wide, usually with some grip marks hacked in with a bush knife, but still slippery after rain. Most have a few logs, but I often walk on just one log, as practice for the one log bridges. When the tide is out, it can be a long way to the bottom of the creek and I cross the bridges very gingerly. When the tide is in, the water can be nearly up to the bridge level and I wander across the same bridges with little concern, as it would be a short fall and a soft (but wet) landing.

Bridges

Ara’ava village itself is built along the river. The school where we are working is at the far end of the village, so we walk through the whole town, wishing people ‘Vapanima’ as we go. This path can be extremely muddy, so I wave and greet people, but rarely look up from my feet. By the time we come home, a few hours of sunshine have dried out the path and I can look around me as I walk. Depending how late in the day it is, we can be greeting people with ‘Darima!’ or ‘Pukuima’ …or switching back and forth, as people do not all agree if it is still the heat of the day, or the afternoon already. Returning to the hospital our greetings shift to English and Tok Pisin, as the patients are not all Koriki and so have various greetings of their own.

Winding back through the gardens, across the bridges and into the hospital compound, I am shaded by my umbrella. The heat and humidity here makes my head sweat, so hats are uncomfortable, whereas umbrellas provide shade while allowing a breeze… and are handy for when sun changes to rain with little notice.

The final bridge to the house I’m staying in has a cute roof over it and is followed by a flower lined path. I do not know who built it, but it is an odd piece of whimsy and makes me smile as I return home for a shower, a snack and a nap.

Waste not, want not

Although simplicity is something I aspire to, I am generally bad at reducing the amount of stuff I have. Packing up my house after a year, so that the owners could return, highlighted to me how quickly I have accumulated things. Living in PNG, when I’m not certain when I might be able to find something again, has not helped. It means I increasingly acquire or store things ‘just in case’.

I am not the only one with this problem. Because things can be hard to find when needed, many people bring extra items into the country, but do not take them with when they leave. It is not worth paying for the shipping. This results in an internal-to-the-organisation market of bits and pieces. At the community sale I picked up some great retro kitchen canisters that would cost a lot more at home. From friends going away I’ve ended up with half bottles of moisturiser, half used kitchen items and so forth. The internal ‘wanted’ and ‘for sale’ e-boards have a constant stream of unexpected items.

People are known to sell their house as is, including unsorted storage sheds. This often results in a garage sale to redistribute the contents to those who want them. It can mean interesting discoveries; such as the person who had boxes of rags, all cleaned and sorted into ‘white, cotton’, ‘coloured, cotton’ etc. My fabric collection has increased from such sources… from the sales that is, not from the rags!

When sorting my house I found that the zips on my old backpack had finally stopped working. This was not a problem, as I’d already bought a replacement from someone’s clearing sale before they went ‘finish’. Instead, I got out my scissors and cut off all the useful bits to add to my sewing box…buckles, clips, internal zips… they all went in the pile before the backpack went in the bin. I have already made myself a laptop bag from the zips and straps retrieved from another bag and the fabric from second hand clothing, so I’m sure these zips will come in handy too. I left enough of the clips on my backpack that should someone choose to recycle it from the tip and get the zips working again, it could still be used.

That was the point at which I realised I’d very much become a part of the waste-not, want-not culture and the absolute truth that one person’s junk surely is another’s treasure!