Later that evening, she was annoyed to discover the rice was full of weevils but, having no alternative, removed most of them as they floated to the top and ignored the rest.
Chapter 19
Albert drove the jeep through dense jungle, Natalie fidgeting beside him. This was her first visit to one of the villages. He looked across at her. “Nothing much has changed here for hundreds of years, despite the influence of missionaries and colonisation. You’ll soon see how people live on the fish they catch and the vegetables they grow. They’ve no interest in what goes on outside their village. They might call themselves Christians, but scratch below the surface and you’ll find witchcraft has more impact on their lives. They won’t go out to sea if it’s not auspicious.”
Natalie looked out the window at clusters of palm trees, the sun flickering through them to create leafy shadows on the road. From time to time crystal clear rivers and creeks crossed the gravel road, momentarily stemming the stream of dust left behind them. Albert turned onto a rough track through long grass and banana trees. After a couple of miles, he stopped the vehicle. “It’s not far to walk from here.”
Natalie followed him along a dirt track. As they reached the village perimeter, people flocked to greet them. Most of the women had babies and small children on their backs. Others were breastfeeding. One older woman was feeding a piglet from a drooping breast. Natalie tried not to stare. Surely she’s too old to produce milk. The woman gave her a beaming smile, displaying red gums in a mouth missing front teeth from chewing beetle-nut. Small children, many of them naked, were running about. Older ones wore dirty, ill-fitting clothes.
They walked across a dirt clearing to reach a cluster of rectangular-shaped houses on stilts with pitched, thatched roofs and woven bamboo walls. The headman came out to welcome them. “We are so much looking forward to your talk.”
“Does everyone here speak English?”
“Most people have some English. Children learn it at school.”
“Where do they go to school?”
“We take them to the main road where they get the bus to Alotau. Of course, it is school holidays at the moment so the children are home.”
“That’s a long walk!”
“We manage.”
“How do you make a living here?”
“We grow bananas, kaukau, taro, yams and sweet corn. Then, of course, we fish, but most of our canoes are in a poor state. We don’t have money to improve them so we’re very interested in hearing about your programme.”
By now, most of the adults had settled on cane mats, children huddled amongst them. Natalie was invited to sit on a plastic chair in front of the audience, beside Albert and the head-man. She would have preferred to sit on the ground with the locals but thought it prudent to respect their wishes.
She spoke to a silent, attentive audience, bar the occasional whinging of a baby. When she finished, everyone clapped. Natalie invited questions but none were forthcoming. Instead, the head man thanked her and then repeated most of what she’d said, still in English. What’s the point of me speaking if he’s going to say it all over again? At the conclusion, some of the women got up to attend to children who’d become restless. Other people left and went about their business. This is so frustrating. I haven’t got to hear from them.
Natalie whispered to Albert, “Why did he repeat everything I said?”
“Partly because some people might struggle with your accent and partly to give the information more authority.”
Natalie rose from her chair. A number of men gathered around her. They told her about their dire financial circumstances. “Come and see the canoes,” said one elderly, skinny man, with bare feet, dirty clothes and scruffy hair. Natalie looked at Albert, who nodded.
They followed the group through the village, scattering hens as they passed. Dusty, black pigs of various sizes seemed less inclined to move out of their way. Before long they reached the shore of an inlet where a number of dilapidated, dug-out canoes rested on the bank.
“If we could get small engines for the canoes and some fishing equipment – lines and nets – we could provide food for the village and sell fish at the market. It would make such a difference to the children.”
“I’ll speak to my manager about it and come back and see you.” She arranged a time to meet up again.
On the return trip, Natalie mulled over what she’d seen. The level of poverty with subsistence village life was new to her. Yet, the children ran about happily, playing with stones and bits of wood, no conflict or animosity between them. There was a comradeship among the people that was missing in western society. Perhaps she could help them but she was sure she could also learn a lot. Chris already seemed far more relaxed with his new life.
Samuel was happy to accept her recommendation to provide funds for the village. I’m on my way.
Chapter 20
Friday afternoon. I made it through my first week.
Samuel appeared at the door. “Come and have a drink with us. It’ll give you a chance to meet the locals.”
“I’d like to but I’ve got Chris to think about.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll drop by your house and pick him up.”
Natalie hesitated. “He’s a very active child.”
Samuel laughed. “Aren’t they all? He’ll be right. There’re always plenty of people to lend a hand.”
They collected Chris and drove to the opposite side of town. After driving up a steep hill, Samuel pulled up in front of a guest house. They climbed wooden slatted steps to reach a wide, covered deck, with a magnificent view over the town and bay. A few customers, expats and nationals, were seated around tables, but most were gathered at the bar. Dennis, the owner, a tall, slim man with freckled, fair skin and gingery hair, greeted them. Speaking softly and precisely, with an English accent, there was an earnestness about him that suggested he was carrying the worries of the world on his shoulders.
Natalie felt more comfortable with his wife, Jan, a cheerful local lady, who despite carrying a little extra weight, seemed to have plenty of energy. “What would your little one like to drink?”
“An orange juice would be nice. I have his plastic cup here. I’ll have one too, thanks.”
“Oh come on, relax and enjoy yourself. Have a wine.”
Before Natalie had time to argue, Jan had disappeared. She returned shortly with an orange juice and two white wines on a tray and led the way to a table where they sat down together.
“How long have you and Dennis had the guest house?” Natalie asked.
“Over twenty years. I remember when our two sons were the same age as your boy. It was a great place for them to grow up.”
“Did they go to school here?”
“They went to the local primary school but we sent them to Australia for their high school education. All the expats do. There’s quite a group here, with shop owners, fishing boat owners and teachers. I hope you like to have fun because we’re a bit of a party lot.”
“It’d be nice but I’ve got Chris to consider.”
“Nonsense, there’s never a shortage of girls to look after the children. I can always arrange someone for you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. I met a lady at the airport in Port Moresby, Shirley, who also said she’d help me with babysitters. Does she work here?”
“She’s the laundress. You’ll find her under the house if you want to catch up with her.”
Natalie looked around for Chris, who had left the table while they were talking. One of the local girls was carrying him about, amusing him with a hibiscus flower.
“Don’t worry about him. I’ll keep an eye out.”
Natalie made her way along the concrete path beside the guest house to the back, where she glimpsed a multitude of sheets, pillowcases and towels, fluttering on a series of lines, attached to timber supports beneath the building. Scrambling past the bushes, she ducked her head as she made her way under the house where she discovered two old-fashione
d laundry tubs and an old wringer washing machine. “Shirley, you there?”
A woolly head appeared around one of the sheets. “Natalie!” Shirley rushed forward with open arms and embraced her. “I’m so glad you made it. Come and talk to me while I’m ironing. How’re you settling in?”
“It’s been absolutely incredible. Everyone’s so friendly.”
“You can meet more of us tomorrow night. There’s a party in one of the expat’s houses. I’ll arrange a babysitter for you.”
Shirley arrived in a car the next evening with two other women. One of them, not dressed up to impress like the others, told Natalie she’d stay there to look after Chris. He responded in his usual light-hearted way. “Will you read me a story?”
“Of course, I will.” She winked over her shoulder at Natalie, who took the cue and fetched her bag to join the others in the car. There was an air of excitement as they rattled along, gossiping about local affairs.
“Is this your car, Shirley?”
“Heavens, no! I can’t afford a car. It belongs to a wontok. Don’t worry. We’ll drop you home later, much later!”
They hadn’t gone far beyond the guest house when Shirley pulled up in front of a house from which music blared loud enough for the whole street to hear.
“Won’t that disturb the neighbours?” Natalie asked.
The other two laughed. “All the neighbours will be here.”
And so it seemed. The house was packed with a huge array of people, all with drink in hand, shouting at each other to be heard over the raucous music. Everyone was keen to meet Natalie. She found her glass frequently refilled, making her quite intoxicated but so was everyone else. As the evening wore on, the music got even louder with people joining in, singing and dancing. Finally, numbers began to dwindle and they headed off. Shirley dropped her home, where she collapsed into an exhausted sleep.
The next afternoon Natalie was surprised to find Shirley back at her door. “Do you have snorkelling gear?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Bring it along. We’re going to the beach.”
Chris started running about, clapping his hands.
Once there, Natalie offered the snorkelling gear to Shirley.
“No, I can’t swim. You go in while I play with Chris.”
With the scorching heat, it was bliss to immerse herself in the cool sea. When she was waist deep, she put on her mask and snorkel and glided through the clear water, amazed at the range of different shapes and hues of coral growing so close to the shore. Vibrant coloured fish darted about amongst the coral and rock formations. Natalie poked her head up from time to time to check on Chris but he was totally engrossed in collecting different coloured pebbles with Shirley and washing them in the water. Everyone’s happy!
Natalie continued to visit villages, going to increasingly remote places, sometimes travelling in the jeep, sometimes going by boat. She frequently found herself walking with Albert along narrow tracks through dense rainforest. Villagers always welcomed them, even when they were not expected. Natalie learned to undertake an assessment on the spot, to save herself from having to return too often to some of the hard to reach places. Everywhere she went people were keen to join the programme. They lived such simple, subsistence existences that any input of funds improved the chance of their children getting an education and improving their future prospects. In some of the coastal villages, requests were made for generators and portable freezers to enable fishermen to store their catches. Then they could be taken to market in Alotau or to Steamships, where they would be shipped to Port Moresby or other places.
One weekend Shirley invited Natalie and Chris to join her on a visit to her village. She arrived early at Natalie’s place in the wontok’s car. “I need to get some supplies for Mum before we leave.” At the supermarket, Shirley selected bread, tinned food, powdered milk, and a carton of cigarettes, which Natalie paid for.
“I didn’t expect your mum to smoke.”
“It’s what she looks forward to most when I go there.”
As they drove along the rough track, Shirley talked about her life. “I’ve got a son about the same age as Chris. Mum’s been looking after him since he was a baby. I used to work at Port Moresby Hospital as a nurse. Then, when Mum took sick, I came home to look after her. When she got back on her feet, I started working at the guest house. That way I’m nearby if she needs me.”
Natalie listened in stunned silence. Shirley had given up both her child and her career to undertake the arduous job of washing sheets and towels for long hours in the gloom under the guest house. “Do you find it difficult being separated from your son?”
“I look forward to seeing Matthew but I know he’s best off in the village where he’s got plenty of wontoks to look after him. He’s safe playing with the children there. I used to be able to send money home but I don’t get as much now.”
“How’s your mum’s health?”
“She’s pretty good now.”
When they arrived at the village, a group of scantily clad children ran over to them, shouting and whooping with excitement. Then several women joined them, giving Shirley warm hugs. Shirley introduced them to Natalie as her sisters. She then turned to Natalie, putting her arm around her. “This is my white sister.” The women clustered around Natalie, each hugging her in turn.
“How many sisters do you have?”
Shirley laughed. “I’m not sure. We were all brought up together. Some are half-sisters and some cousins but they’re all sisters to me. They’re my family and I love them. I feel the same way about you.” Natalie felt a lump in her throat.
They collected the stores and made their way toward the cluster of thatched, bamboo huts on stilts. Chris was already running about with other children. Shirley’s mum, a stooped, elderly looking woman, wearing a grass skirt and grubby t-shirt, came out to greet them. She gave them both a hug, her wrinkled, black face breaking into a broad smile. “Thanks for the cigarettes.” She looked at Natalie. “Sorry about the skirt. I’ve just come from the garden. I’ll get changed and be back in a jiffy.” With that, she turned and disappeared into one of the huts.
“Mum always works in the garden in a grass skirt. There’s not much fresh water for washing so it’s easier that way.”
Why was she embarrassed to be caught in traditional clothing? It was lovely. Natalie looked around but couldn’t see Chris.
“Don’t worry. He’s probably down by the water.” They made their way along a track through palm trees and undergrowth to a clearing where the water lapped gently onto the shore. Two boys were helping Chris into a dug-out canoe. They got in one on either side of him, and began to paddle about on the calm water. Initially, Chris concentrated hard on balancing in the canoe but as he relaxed, he looked around and waved.
Shirley turned to make her way back along the track. “He’ll be fine.” Natalie hesitated and then followed her to the large, cleared area at the centre of the huts where a group of boys were running about with a ball. “Matthew,” Shirley called.
A small, grubby-looking boy wandered over.
“This is my son.” The boy stood there with a hangdog look for a few moments before returning to his game.
Shirley and Natalie joined other women, preparing lunch on a long table in an open area beneath a thatched roof, while the men remained in another part of the village, yarning and smoking. Locally grown vegetables, along with some of the tinned meat they’d brought, was laid out in dishes. The men lined up first to take their share. As a special guest, Natalie was first in the women’s queue. She tentatively took a small sample from each dish. Another woman leant forward and, grabbing a spoon, piled up Natalie’s plate.
They sat in a circle on plastic chairs, their meals on their laps. Chris promptly arrived and began helping himself to food from her plate. Natalie looked around, noticing younger children collected morsels from various adults as they meandered about between their games.
She spent the afternoon ch
atting with the women, learning about their lives, growing up carefree in the village, fishing, gardening and sharing the joy of each other’s offspring. Chris romped with the children, a little white boy indistinguishable in his play from his black companions. This is the way life is meant to be. The warmth and acceptance she felt were what she’d craved all her life. This was the family she’d never had. At the end of the day, Natalie returned sluggishly to the car, a doleful expression on her face.
Shirley put an arm around her. “We’ll come again.”
Chapter 21
Natalie was at the market one afternoon when she came upon Shirley, who gave her a big hug. “You must come to the guest house on Friday evening. There’s a man from Popondetta I want you to meet.”
“What’s he like?”
“I’m not saying, but you’ll love him. His name’s Rod.”
Excitement built during the week as Natalie tried to imagine the mysterious visitor. She arrived at the guesthouse in a slightly revealing dress, her freshly washed hair bouncing, as did her step. She looked around. There was just the usual crowd so she sat down for a meal, her eyes peeled on the entrance, but nobody unusual arrived. To pass the time she played darts, becoming increasingly dispirited as he failed to appear. One more drink and I’ll go. She looked up despondently and caught her breath. He’s arrived. With his ironed, short-sleeved, pale blue shirt and tight black trousers, he stood more upright than the rest, more sophisticated. Muscular in build, though slim, his skin was smooth and chocolate brown, his black, curly hair trimmed neatly. Natalie studied his handsome face, with its even features, when the beginning of a smile crossed his face. His liquid, brown eyes returned her gaze. Embarrassed, Natalie looked away. He strolled to the bar to buy a drink. Please come over. But no, of course, he didn’t. He joined the men instead. She was helpless to prevent her glance from returning to him, enthralled by his stunning good looks.
Parallel Lives Page 11