“Welcome to Mount Hagen” – Angel is fascinated by the complexity of the local languages: tok pleis , or village dialects, tok pisin , the trade tongue, and English. We're learning bits of tok pisin as we go, out of necessity; the pikanini don't start learning English until third grade or so.
Children come through and try to hustle us, carry our bags in the market, hang on the shopping cart. We shoo them away repeatedly. They're bright-eyed and clever, well fed, in clean clothing, but still contrive to look pathetic.
On the way in from the airport we pass some straw-topped houses on a hill. It's not easy, taking pictures at 65 MPH over poorly-maintained roads, but I try to manage.
Yesterday, Diane explained to us that part of the road maintenance problem involves the clay soilbase here. Apparently, nobody dug down to the soilbase and leveled before laying road, so the topsoil slips and sinks, leaving an uneven road surface. In some places, it's completely gone.
I wouldn't describe what we do in the vans here as “driving” - it's more sort of a controlled careen, hurtling down the road as a projectile, trying to see and slow and avoid the worst of the potholes. I'm very glad I'm not the one steering this thing.
We arrive around twilight; unpack and eat dinner with Jim and Kathy. There are so many things I want pictures of, but I'm exhausted and I tell myself there will be more time.
There are days off, here, and when the outpatient department is done for the day I get to go home. My first call is Friday. She tells me that I'll be rounding on my assigned ward Saturday morning, and that then I'm free for the rest of the day. I can't go off base unaccompanied but I haven't lacked for company so far. I just need to arrange to borrow someone's vehicle so I can drive up to the hospital in the middle of the night, as I'm not allowed to walk alone after dark.
It's 6 AM and the light is brightening outside. The air is cool and humid, clinging to me, and the steady hum of night insects is being replaced by the chirp and twitter of morning birds. Everyone is up with me, Miriam coloring on the notebook, Angel reading pamphlets on Melanesian culture. It's going to be a good day, I can tell.
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