Kundu sculptures in no mans land
Me and Johnny at the border
Wutung
Me, Bao and Shane During the PNG Surfing National titles held in Lido, Vanimo, I had the opportunity to go across the border with some friends to see how our brothers and sisters connected to us by one land live. It was an overwhelming experience for me. We began by leaving the village, Lido by bus into Vanimo. We then caught a bus from Vanimo that took us to the border. We left in a mini bus, packed full of passengers for the border. One thing that you will notice about the Sundaun province is the sounds. The waves crashing on the shore contrasted against the thick sound of the forest. A unique sound arises from the forest, from a mysterious insect which I am yet to identify. The senses you feel are full, the landscape is stunning, the smell of the ocean mixed with the moist forest floor, the perfume of secret blooms of forest flowers, float out of the intense green entanglement... wow absolute wonderment. With the crashing waves to the right and the green entanglement to the left, a perfect combination, the ride to Batas was a privilege.
On the way rock pools dotted the coast, the reefs merely 20 metres away from some villages the only protection between them and the crashing waves. The turrets the waves had carved towards the shore, a gushing torrent of movement, seething and breathing. The mesmerising, throb of the mysterious insects in the background.
Forty- Five minutes later we had reached the border crossing, where we were confronted with the spectacular view of Wutung village and the bay below. An 'Indonesian"family rushed towards me and handed their baby to hold and we took photographs together. I was speaking pidgin to them, as visually we looked like one people but we could not understand each other. I felt sad at the thought that we could not communicate through language, there were smiles all around though.
After taking in the view we walked through the border gates into 100m of no mans land. On reaching the other side we simply signed our names and indicated our sex on the sign in sheet and proceeded to walk across the border. Johnny, my bro and guide told me not to take any photos. When walking past the Indonesian guards, I knew why. There was a machine gun pointed towards the road?? Border control.
Batas the little town was interesting, but it was just filled with junk. We had a look around bought a few things and left.
On leaving I couldn't help but think of how blessed PNG was to be an independent country. You could feel the oppression. We are a free and independent state... that's special. Lets look after this place, its ours.
On the way rock pools dotted the coast, the reefs merely 20 metres away from some villages the only protection between them and the crashing waves. The turrets the waves had carved towards the shore, a gushing torrent of movement, seething and breathing. The mesmerising, throb of the mysterious insects in the background.
Forty- Five minutes later we had reached the border crossing, where we were confronted with the spectacular view of Wutung village and the bay below. An 'Indonesian"family rushed towards me and handed their baby to hold and we took photographs together. I was speaking pidgin to them, as visually we looked like one people but we could not understand each other. I felt sad at the thought that we could not communicate through language, there were smiles all around though.
After taking in the view we walked through the border gates into 100m of no mans land. On reaching the other side we simply signed our names and indicated our sex on the sign in sheet and proceeded to walk across the border. Johnny, my bro and guide told me not to take any photos. When walking past the Indonesian guards, I knew why. There was a machine gun pointed towards the road?? Border control.
Batas the little town was interesting, but it was just filled with junk. We had a look around bought a few things and left.
On leaving I couldn't help but think of how blessed PNG was to be an independent country. You could feel the oppression. We are a free and independent state... that's special. Lets look after this place, its ours.
1 comment:
Not only did I enjoy browsing through your blog, I also admire your determination to “save PNG”.
I'm currently reading "Doctor in Paradise, Challenges and Rewards in Medical Service New Guinea 1958-1970" an account by Dr. Mary Guntner of her time working in PNG from 1958 to 1970. A recurring question as each page gives me a glimpse into life in PNG, before you and I were born, is whether PNG is really better off post-Independence. The answer, of course, is yes but not in quite the way the architects of PNG’s statehood would have envisaged. Significantly, we are masters of our own destiny and bright young people like you can really make a difference in the path PNG takes in her development.
Keep striving. Wishing you well.
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