settlements

Around the major towns in PNG are settlements. The ones around Goroka are of reasonable size, but not as large as the ones around Lae and Moresby. When I first arrived I assumed that they were temporary – maybe slum areas – and that the people who lived in them were something like squatters, but I was way off track.

Two days before I came to Goroka, people from the settlement which borders my work came and stole the new fence that work had just erected. The fence was between the front road and work (not along the border between work/settlement). At night, whilst it was pouring with rain, they took all 32 corrugated iron sheets, and the welding machine. (The security guards were asleep – which, it’s assumed here, means they knew what was going on and who was doing it, and decided it was wise not to get involved. They were fired.)

Popular opinion associates settlements with unemployment, crime, guns, prostitution – anything bad. People – nationals and others – are generally uncomfortable about the existence of settlements and are usually unwilling to talk about them (I have noticed how quickly the topic changes when I ask about them). Expats don’t go into them, and not many volunteers do either – unless work takes them there; neither group would want to drive through them at night.

In that first week, when I learned about the missing fence, I also discovered a town map in the white pages. It surprised me to find that there were clearly defined areas of the town marked “settlements” (see above; I have oh so helpfully circled them in red; and see the green dot? That’s where I live). So they were officially recognised; permanent enough to be mapped; and they were big. I was also surprised to learn that one of my workmates – a nice, middle class girl! – used to live in a settlement, down in Lae. The assumptions I’d made weren’t quite right.

Settlers typically have some type of understanding with landowners or the government (depending on who owns it): they usually pay some form of rent (cash; produce etc), and they garden or build or live in some form of accommodation, ranging from a rough shelter made of scrap corrugated iron and timber, to normal permanent houses. There are a lot of settlement areas that have been there for decades. And there are new ones; they continue to expand. At election time, politicians visit to woo potential voters. People from the same provincial area (ie. Chimbus) often live in the same settlement area. And it’s not “homeless” people who live in the settlements: there are poor people but there are also those with well-paying government jobs; it’s cheaper to live in a settlement than in town.

Access to water and electricity in settlements varies from good to poor to non-existent. (In Goroka, the town’s controllers refused to admit to the existence of the settlements when planning the water supply, so there are daily problems with water pressure and supply; at work, every afternoon from 2pm until about 5 or 6, there is no water.)

Now and then there are evictions. The police task force (known to be…tough) come in and basically turf people out, destroying their homes in the process. “Their homes” might be little shelters or well-established houses. Either way, they’re gone: destroyed, either by hand or even with a bulldozer. The people are now known as “illegal squatters”, and are effectively made homeless. In evictions, the settlers seem to be victims; they have no say in what happens. Some evictions occur because of a landowner’s dispute with someone else; some are made in the name of development (though that development might not eventuate). No one gives a clear reason for them publicly.

But what’s interesting – to me – is that settlements are organised; there are leaders within settlements who organise and govern. After the fence was stolen, my boss went to the settlement with a few kilos of rice and cans of tinned fish, and sat down with one of the big men there, P. My boss told his story, and P told his, and after discussing the issue they came to some agreement. Later, P talked to certain key people and shared out the rice and tinned fish between them. And my boss made a small payment, which was again shared out.

The day that I arrived in Goroka, the welding machine and all 32 sheets of iron were returned. There hasn’t been any trouble since (though I note that the fence has not been re-erected).