doll parts

travelling in new delhi, 2001

Men, their behaviour and their attitudes towards women, can make life hard for a girl in PNG. And of course I’m on the lucky side with my white skin, my volunteer’s salary, my knowledge that I leave. The hassles I get are small fry. But you do have hard days, and long-term it’s not a society I want to live in - largely because of gender issues.

(One benefit is that I appreciate much more where I come from, and the times I live in. My parents were really cool when raising me – shoutouts to mum and dad! I never felt that there were things I couldn’t do because I was a girl, and consequently I did everything I wanted. At school it was the same; when I was educated there was a sound acceptance of the idea that boys and girls were equal. In my teens, at high school, this started to change: that was when there was a push to recognise differences between the sexes, and to acknowledge that there were different strengths and weaknesses. But it didn’t affect the curriculum, and just made common sense. It’s really only been through travel that I have experienced and glimpsed different, more gendered, worlds.)

I was talking with some other (male) volunteers recently, about living in PNG, and about leaving it. There are some great career opportunities here, and life can be an adventure. But we agreed that the experience for girls was significantly different from that of boys. Boys here – local or expat – have great freedoms, compared to girls; and I do wonder if, were I a boy, I might want to stay on longer. But I ain't and I don't.

What this means varies according to where you are – coast vs highlands, town vs village, matriarchy vs patriarchy – and on your class, education, and employment. Here in Gka we’re in a patriarchal stronghold. There are very few women in public roles; you’ve gotta be one tough susa to work productively – to get others to work for you – to cope personally – etc. When I first arrived last year, the Assistant Director at my work was a female from Bougainville (Bougainvillians have a reputation for being very strong, especially the women; they’re different from mainlanders, because of their recent history – Sandline crisis etc). So anyway this woman was no nonsense, savvy, fierce and with a wonderful sense of humour. Sadly, she left soon after I arrived; I enjoyed hanging out with her, she had some serious stories to tell. But more sad was her conclusion, after living and working in the highlands for ten years, that could she do her time over again she would never accept employment in a powerful position here, as a female.

(You like to think that if a woman takes up a position in a previously male-dominated area, that it is some type of break through, some type of significant change. It’s hard to learn that that is sometimes not the case: that change hasn’t occurred, that taking on challenges sometimes isn’t worth it.)
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Leaving is on my mind at the moment. According to a set publication schedule, we finish our major work on 1 Aug this year. I hadn’t been aware of this until recently; my visa goes until the start of Feb next year. So we’re currently re-negotiating a finish date (me, my boss here, and the bosses in Aussie – the volunteer agency), I’m guessing towards the end of September.

People at work don’t know yet. We were doing some future planning during the week, and a woman I work closely with, who I have formed a strong friendship with, turned and said: “And of course you will go, too.” And she looked at me, and her eyes filled with tears. And I could write a book on the pause that followed – on the working relationships involving pngians and whiteskins and the many and varied tensions and influences that occurs within them; on their social relationships, on their lived experiences; on whiteskins dropping out of the sky into peoples lives, making huge changes felt, and then almost always leaving again; on the impact that that has on both pngians and whites; on the impact of the history of the last fifty years on the present; on these particular women, herself and myself, and all that has gone before for us and all that has shaped us and all that has happened to us for she and I to reach this particular point in time, this particular pause –

And although I could write a book on that pause, when it occurred there was nothing I could say. I really enjoy my job, and I know I won’t find anything like it back in Aussie. In terms of lifestyle here, well, whilst I've loved the adventure, I’m ready to leave it; the restrictions are too much and it’s not the place for me. But there are certain key people it is going to be very hard to leave. I had thought that they would, but “leavings” don’t get any easier with experience. They’re always particular, and particularly hard.