Oxfam puts human rights at the heart of all its work.  It believes that where people are treated with dignity, where human rights are respected, and where communities are empowered to become active citizens in civil society, poverty can be relieved and resilient communities established which can better deal themselves with 'shocks'.  Its work speaks for itself, so why not take a few minutes to watch some of its 3 minutes videos profiling some of the communities Oxfam is working with and the impact that work is having on those communities.

Pigs, Dancing, and Clean Water:  An Oxfam Story

See how the remote village of Sandaun in East Sepik, Papua New Guinea celebrated the completion of a clean water system built by Oxfam.

Growing a Better Future in PNG: Part 1

GROW is Oxfam’s global campaign to create a more sustainable food system. See how Oxfam’s work in the Highlands of Papua New Guinea is helping local villagers create a more reliable food supply.

Growing a Better Future in PNG:  Part 2

GROW is Oxfam’s global campaign to create a more sustainable food system. In this short documentary we follow local villagers as they better manage their forest resources.

Meet Our Partners:  Episode 1 - Gender Justice - Crisis Centres

There is an epidemic of violence against women in PNG.   60% of women have been raped and 75% have experienced gender based violence. Meet the people at the front-line who are helping victims get justice and start a new life. 

Meet Our Partners:  Episode 2 - Eco Justice - Turubu Eco Forestry

PNG has some of the world’s best high-value forests but these are under threat from illegal logging. Meet the organisation that is standing up to the companies involved.

Meet Our Partners:  Episode 3- Gender Justice at Lifeline

Meet the people at Lifeline in Port Moresby who help victims of sexual assault and violence rebuild their lives.

Meet Our Partners:  Episode 4

Meet Our Partners:  Episode 5 - Samaritan Aviation

Take a 3 minute trip along the Sepik River as we deliver emergency supplies and save lives inside the only sea plane in Papua New Guinea.  Oxfam helps fund the only water airplane in Papua New Guinea.  Last year, Samaritan Aviation delivered over 20,000 kg’s of medical supplies to remote communities.

Eliminating Violence Against Women

Oxfam's Eliminating Violence Against Women Programme provides crisis care, counselling and support for victims of sexual and domestic violence through a number of local partners.  Take a look inside a domestic violence shelter in Port Moresby - the crime-ridden capital of Papua New Guinea.

For more information about our work listen to these short radio interviews about PNG’s epidemic of violence against women.http://www.rnzi.com/pages/news.php?op=read&id=78464
&http://www.rnzi.com/pages/news.php?op=read&id=78480

Humanitarian Relief

On World Humanitarian Day - August 19th - Oxfam looked back at the impact of a devastating flood on the Sepik River earlier this year and its response.

Sorcery Related Killings

You may have thought that the killing of women accused of ‘witchcraft’ ended in the 1600s. Think again. Sorcery-related killings are on the rise in Papua New Guinea. Oxfam is one of the only INGO's in the world specifically helping women in life threatening situations who have been accused of sorcery.

Louise Ewington

Papua New Guinea Human Rights Film Festival

Tomorrow I will be opening the PNG Human Rights Film Festival in Port Moresby.  It is a wonderful celebration of the journalists and film makers who have placed human rights firmly on the agenda of their own work, and a reflection on the human rights abuses taking place in PNG and around the world. 

This is my opening speech:

"The author Ellen J Barrier once said:  “We are not going to always agree with each other, but we should have the dignity to always respect each other’s freedom of speech and of choice. Democracy is practiced when we have respect for human rights.”

As a Director of Amnesty International UK and the Papua New Guinea Country Director for Oxfam I feel hugely privileged to have been given the opportunity of addressing you at the opening of the 2013 Papua New Guinea Human Rights Film Festival.  Having grown up on Bougainville Island I am also extremely excited to be back living and working in PNG.

I am hugely proud of the work which Oxfam does in PNG in defending human rights, in finding lasting solutions to relieving poverty, and in tackling injustice.  Oxfam is unusual amongst International NGO’s in that it works exclusively through partners at grassroots level rather than implementing programmes directly.  We and our partners are striving to achieve a vision of a safer, fairer, more sustainable world where all people can enjoy a life of hope and opportunity. We believe we can all play a part in fighting poverty and promoting human rights; each and every one of us can do something to make a difference.

Throughout all of our programmes we ensure that human rights is a driving focus.  Whether it is providing safe, clean water and sanitation facilities through our WASH programme, helping communities to build sustainable futures through our Livelihood programmes, promoting peace in the Highlands of PNG, or supporting women who have been subjected to sexual and/or domestic violence through our Eliminating Violence Against Women programme.

In June of this year I attended the 2013 Amnesty International Annual Media Awards at the British Film Institute in London.  The event has become an internationally renowned event recognising excellence in human rights reporting and acknowledging journalism's significant contribution to raising public awareness of human rights issues.  I was absolutely delighted to see that one of the finalists for the photojournalism category was an exhibition which first came to prominence at the PNG Human Rights Festival last year[1].  That exposure emphasises the importance of this festival and recognises the impact that visual and oral storytelling can have in tackling human rights abuses.

Papua New Guinea has a strong tradition of storytelling; it is in the blood of every Papua New Guinean.  The cultural diversity for which PNG is famed throughout the world is strengthened by its commitment to preserving the stories passed down from generation to generation. 

The rise of technology represents a unique opportunity to share those stories around the world.  To give a voice to those whose voice has been trammelled.  To stand for those who are unable, for whatever reason, to stand up for themselves. 

However, that work must be undertaken with integrity.  It is not about chasing the most controversial story, but about operating with conviction and in a way which promotes and respects the dignity of the individual.  The features, documentaries, photographs and stories you will see, hear and read over the next few days have been chosen because they represent the highest standards of journalistic integrity whilst also pushing forward the agenda of universal human rights.

As the Universal Declaration of Human Rights sets out:  “Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.” [2]  We are extremely fortunate that in PNG those rights are enshrined within the Constitution, and that we are able to gather together and share our stories.  In some countries the organisation of an event like this would be brutally repressed.

In fact the PNG Constitution[3] is unique in that it contains almost all the rights and freedoms enshrined in the UN Charter[4] and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights[5].  Moreover, PNG has ratified 5 of the core Human Rights Treaties; the third highest number in the Pacific.  The PNG Government’s commitment to the principle of Human Rights is therefore clear.  However, still PNG does not have its own Human Rights Commission.  I would therefore like to take this opportunity today to urge Prime Minister O’Neill to reaffirm this Government’s commitment to establishing a Human Rights Commission for PNG, and to forge ahead with putting the draft Bill through Parliament.  To show the world that ‘human rights’ is truly at the heart of PNG’s political system, and that it is a priority for the Honourable Members representing the people of Papua New Guinea.

Maya Angelou the Civil Rights Activist once said:  “How important it is for us to recognise and celebrate our heroes and she-roes.”  I want to thank all of the exhibitors who have used their considerable talents in finding ways to creatively tackle human rights abuses.  Without them this festival would not be possible and the world would not be as rich a place.

However, for me the true heroes and she-roes are the subjects of these documentaries and exhibitions.  The individual men, women, and children who in allowing themselves to be filmed, photographed and recorded have given us the gift of themselves and their stories.  We have a responsibility to cherish those stories and to use them in a positive way to advance the cause of human rights.

I am also thrilled to launch this evening a new Oxfam initiative to support the Human Rights Defenders Network in the Highlands.  These brave women are working tirelessly to bring justice to victims of violence and to build a more secure and peaceful Highlands region.  This new initiative will fund the core work of three community-based organisations so that they can extend their work in providing relief to victims, negotiating peace treaties between communities in conflict, and undertaking community outreach and awareness.  We are proud to be partnering with Voice for Change, Kup Women for Peace, and the Kafe Women’s Association to take this work forward.  A particular focus of this new work will be on combating sorcery-related violence and you will note that this issue features as a key theme in this year’s Festival.

I will leave you by commending those individuals and groups who have given so generously, sometimes at great personal risk to themselves.  I will also ask that you stand and join me in a round of applause to recognise the bravery of those individuals, and to celebrate those human rights defenders who cannot be here with us today."

 

Louise Ewington

---

[1] www.amnesty.org.uk/news_details.asp?NewsID=20739

[2] http://www.un.org/en/documents/udhr/

[3] http://www.igr.gov.pg/constitution.pdf

[4] http://www.un.org/en/documents/charter/

[5] http://www.un.org/en/documents/udhr/

Because You're A Girl

Today is International Day of the Girl and should be a celebration of those young ladies who will become the women of tomorrow; agents of change who can lead the world towards societies free of gender-based violence (GBV). Societies where gender doesn't dictate whether you receive an education, and where the fact of your sex doesn't determine the opportunities with which you are presented. 

 

However, two weeks into my time here in PNG I keep being brought back to the realities which overshadow life for girls here and in many other parts of the world. 

          

Here are the stories of some of the girls that I have met.


Dyane and Jacinta: The price of education
Some years ago I spoke to a hugely impressive young lady, called Dyane* who was the first girl in her remote, rural community to graduate from vocational training in a particularly male dominated field.  Despite personal tragedy after her young husband was brutally murdered, Dyane went on to commercial success and was able, because of her skills, to independently support herself and her son from the income she earned as a result of her training. 

She explained to me that she felt as though she was one of the lucky ones.  Her parents had supported and encouraged her ambitions, despite and in spite of, her gender.  One of seven children her two brothers had died at an early age.  Her parents’ aspirations for their children had been transferred to her and her sisters.  Her younger sister, Jacinta*, was also enrolled in the same course that Dyane had taken; the only girl, but the top of the class.

 

I asked her about what was preventing other girls from following in the footsteps of her and her sister.  She explained to me that in her community the girls and boys were not encouraged to interact, and as a result the girls had very little confidence being around boys and men. She said that she wanted to be a role model for other girls, and felt that encouraging girls into vocational training was vital to, as she put it, ‘redressing the gender imbalance in education’.  I was utterly inspired by her. Her strength, her conviction, and her sassiness abounded.  She had succeeded and wanted to share that success with other women.

 
I found out later that Dyane had paid a high price for her education.  The manager of the school had been abusing girls and boys in his care (including Dyane) for many years.  Despite a police investigation the community refused to cooperate. The perpetrator was protected by political, religious, and community leaders who didn’t want to lose out on the financial benefits which they received from having him present.  Dyane was required to sacrifice herself in order to liberate herself.  Without her education she wouldn’t have been able to live independently and earn her own income.  However, she had to endure the most horrendous violations in order to finish that education.
 

 

 

Amanda:  Cursed

Amanda* sits quietly gazing down at the bilum which holds her most precious possession; her four month old son. She is around 17 years old and has been married, she thinks, for about 3 years. She has nothing else left after accusations of sorcery drove her from her village.  She has been abandoned by her own family, her friends, and her husband.  It began, she explains, after her elderly mother-in-law became ill.  Amanda was charged with caring for her but she would frequently find the old lady covered in bruises which she couldn’t explain.

Instead she would be blamed and every bruise would result in a vicious beating for Amanda.  Sometimes she would return from the market to find the old lady collapsed on the floor.  Sometimes the old lady would fly into a rage, lashing out, or hitting herself.  Amanda tried to stop her, to calm her down but she didn’t know how.  She was scared.  She asked for help, but it only resulted in more beatings and that was when the accusations began.
 

‘Everything has changed since you arrived. She was fine before I married you’, her husband sneered.  ‘You can’t even produce a child – what a waste of bride price’, he taunted.  ‘I think you are the problem.  You must have put a curse on her’, he accused.  And that was that.  Her fate was sealed.  Whispers began, rumours circulated, people began to move away when she approached.  She knew what was coming.
 

Some months, and many more beatings later, the change in the old lady became more extreme.  The right hand side of her face started to sag.  Her speech became slurred, and she couldn’t walk without assistance.  Amanda’s husband decided to take his mother to the hospital, but she died on the way.  He tortured and beat Amanda into unconsciousness, and left her on the side of the road. The last words which Amanda heard before she passed out revealed that she could never return to her home without putting her own life in danger:  ‘You killed my mother, you witch.  I hope you die and if you don’t I will make sure you do if you ever come back to the village’, he spat.  When she came around her left eye was swollen shut. Her back and legs had been gashed with a bush knife.  He had beaten her with a metal pole, and raped her as she lay unconscious. 
 

Picture by Vlad Sohkin

 
Despite the circumstances of his conception her little boy means the world to her. He is everything she has.  She found out later than her Mother-in-Law had been suffering from dementia and died of a massive stroke.  Her ex-husband still says that Amanda killed her through sorcery.
 

 

Name Unknown:  A childhood betrayed
I don’t know this little girl’s story.  What I do know is this.  She is around 10 or 11 years old and, at a guess, about 7 months pregnant.  She lives in the Casamance Region of Senegal in West Africa. 

I don’t know the circumstances of her pregnancy, but what I do know is this:

·         Despite her age she may already be married (40% of girls are married under the age of 18) or she may have been raped outside of marriage (the age of consent is 16 but spousal rape is not recognised by many Senegalese communities). 

·         The statistical likelihood is that she will have experienced FGM (female genital mutilation) or female circumcision, along with over 90% of the women in South Senegal.  

·         It is unlikely that she is or will become literate (only 33% of women in Senegal are).

·        Maternal and prenatal health issues are significantly enhanced during child pregnancy, as well as the risk of pregnancy and birth related complications which can lead to lifelong health issues or death (370 women in every 100,000 will die in childbirth). 

There are hundreds of thousands of these stories all over the world.  People who are subjugated, tortured, abused, raped, denied access to health and education, or forced into effective slavery simply because a turn of fate, a single chromosome, determined that they would be a girl rather than a boy. 

So yes, let’s celebrate the achievements of girls.  The lucky ones who are educated enough to succeed, or are privileged enough to live in a society which respects and expects gender equity.
 

 

 

But let’s not forget those that struggle every day because of their sex. I hope that these stories make you angry.  I hope that you are inspired by the injustice of it.  And I hope that you will support some of the fabulous work which is being done by amazing organisations which stand up for girls and give them a voice in worlds which are trying to silence them.

  

 
 
 
* Names changed to preserve identity.  Photos used for visual purposes only.  Unless otherwise stated they do not relate to the particular ladies referred to.

Louise Ewington 



As PNG Time Goes By

Stepping off the plane in Port Moresby a wave of humidity hit me like a wall.  I grinned. 

I had finally touched down in PNG after waiting for what seemed like an interminable amount of time for my visa (about three months). 

Finally, the place which will be my home for the next few years, but that was already for me a ‘home from home’. 

After collecting my baggage and rechecking it for my onward journey to Goroka, I exited the international terminal and smiled as I walked toward domestic.  Curious faces watched me, and shyly returned my smile.

The domestic terminal was crowded. People from all over PNG going to or returning from visiting wantoks.  ‘White skin’ or ‘Dim Dim’ visitors like myself.  A dignitary travelling with his entourage.  Local businessmen and women.  And lots of children, sitting quietly and patiently.  The plane was delayed.  Typical I thought. Some people had been waiting for the flight to Goroka since 9am that morning because the morning flight had been cancelled (it was now 3pm) and I was supposed to have left ten minutes ago! 

I muttered to myself and then decided to people watch.  One thing that has always amazed and impressed me is the incredible patience of Papua New Guinean’s (PNGeans).  To sit quietly and not ‘stress out’ that the bus is late, or the plane hasn’t arrived.  I guess in a country where so much time is spent waiting for things to happen, people have developed this innate peace with having to sit quietly and just wait. It was the ‘white skins’ who sat there grumbling to themselves.  Scowling with a face like thunder.  Some had found another ‘white skin’ to grumble with; to share in the inconvenience of their delay.

I spent some months in West Africa recently and the boys in the local village nicknamed me ‘marathon’.  They asked me why I and other ‘toubabs’ (white people) always walked so fast.  I said that I was busy; that I had places to go and didn’t want to waste my time walking slowly.  They laughed and said ‘Hey don’t worry, you’re in Africa now.  It’s ok to walk slow.  That’s how we do things here.’ 

That very nonchalant attitude towards time is something which PNGeans share with West Africans.  In fact ‘PNG time’ is now internationally recognised as a coined phrase. 

I guess the nearest European equivalent is mañana.  PNG time takes that concept to a whole new level.  It’s almost impossible to ask someone anything about ‘how long’ something will take. 

There is rarely a simple answer, and very often it is impossible to say because so many factors might delay the event or even prevent it from happening at all. 

On my last trip to PNG I remember travelling to Simbai, an incredibly remote rural location in Madang Province accessible only by a small 6 seater plane or a 6 day walk across the mountains. 

I asked when the plane which was due to take me back to Mount Hagen was going to arrive.  My host looked at me and grinned.  The conversation went something like this:

- Maybe 7am, maybe 3pm, maybe not at all.
- What do you mean not at all?  I’ve got my ticket booked.

- Aaah yes, but something might happen.
- Like what?
- Anything.
- What do you mean anything?
- The plane might break down.  There might not be any fuel.  The pilot might   
  not come to work; he might have to go back to his village.  They
  might take the plane someplace else.  Someone might pay more
  money to use the plane. Anything.
- Ok, fair enough.  So how do I know when to go down to the airstrip?
- You don’t.
- So when should I go down? 
- We stay in the village and when we hear the plane coming, then we run!

(In the end we went down earlier and waited. We talked, we ate sugar cane, and we enjoyed just being.  The plane was only 4 hours ‘late’.)

 

The ability to wait or even just slow the pace is not a gift which I possess.  I am not very patient and I get bored of waiting in less time than it takes me to reach into my bilum (bag) and check the time on my phone.  So I know that this will be a personal development experience for me, and one of the very many lessons which I can learn from the people of PNG.

I have grown to love and appreciate the contemplative way that PNGeans are able to observe the world around them and enjoy what it has to offer for its own sake.  How they can take such a measured approach to things that I would probably get unnecessarily wound up about.  Perhaps a part of it is resignation.  There is no point in getting stressed about something you can’t change or do anything about.  If the plane turns up it turns up.  If it doesn’t it doesn’t.  Don’t get me wrong, this very calm attitude towards time can often be frustrating, especially when it comes to meetings, reporting deadlines, or getting to the office before lunchtime.  But it does represent another approach to life; one which highlights the unnecessary pressures and stresses which we in the West place on ourselves and others. 

I stood outside today waiting for a lift.  During the first ten minutes I checked my phone about 25 times.  And then I stopped and thought why?  Is it going to make the car arrive any quicker?  Is it going to help my mood?  Is it going to change anything at all?  No.  And so I sat.  I sat and I looked.  I enjoyed the sunshine and looked at the flowers. 

And then I saw two butterflies.  Bright blue and black.  Darting, wheeling, chasing each other; tumbling, spiralling, and flashing away. 

These beautiful creatures have only 24 hours to live and they don’t waste a second of it. 

But if I hadn’t stopped and just sat and waited and observed the world I would have missed enjoying that gorgeous moment.

 

“I know this much: that there is objective time, but also subjective time,

the kind you wear on the inside of your wrist, next to where the pulse lies.

And this personal time, which is the true time, is measured in your relationship to memory.”  

 

Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending

Louise Ewington

My Value, My Worth

No words can describe the heartache I felt reading this account from Pamela Josephine Toliman, so I will leave you simply with her story in her own words.

Louise Ewington

My Value, My Worth

PAMELA JOSEPHINE TOLIMAN

To my family and those who have gladly ‘eaten from my skin’ (kaikai long skin bilong mi)

DID YOU NOT SEE how I hung my head in embarrassment when you happily announced to the village that I had begun menstruating?  You dressed me in magnificent plumes and soft fur.  You oiled my skin and sang over me but I felt like a pig being groomed for exhibition.

 

“She is worth …” you announced what I would be expected for my bride price as I was led forth and presented no longer as a child but a woman.  From that moment I learnt a painful truth: I would never be my own and my value, my worth, would be dictated by others.

You considered my education an expensive luxury.  Cleaning the house, fetching water and firewood, cooking and watching over siblings were things you pushed on me in an effort to increase my value.  “No husband wants a woman who cannot cook or keep a home.”
 

The increase in my domesticity value came at the price of missing out on a placement after grade ten.  You were relieved that you would not have to waste any more money on school fees.  Perhaps now you would see a return on your investment.

You would shamelessly appraise possible suitors in my presence.  The fact that some candidates were already married or had fathered children was not considered impediments.  Finally, one persistent suitor caught your attention and appetite. 
 
He began calling regularly at our home and you showered him with respect because of the money and gifts that accompanied his visits.  Did you not see how he repulsed me?  Did you not sense how sick I felt when his eyes roamed over my body?

You pushed me that day to accompany him into town.  He had generously offered to advance you store goods for a small canteen I was to keep.  You pushed me to accept his invitation.  But he did not take me directly into town.  He stopped at a quietly concealed garden house within his coffee plot. 

That day he took the last thing that was mine.  Without my permission, he took and took again.  I was battered, bruised and bleeding but nonchalantly he continued into town and bought me a Coke and a lunch pack to soften the blow.
I sat numb and silent as we waited for workers to load the store goods onto his vehicle.  Finally we headed back and as our family home came into view hot tears burst forth from my eyes.  Surely I was safe now?  Surely you would not permit this man to ever come near me again?

When his vehicle pulled up, you happily greeted us and then called for tea to be brought for him.  In the excitement of unloading the store goods you did not see me wince as I got out of the vehicle.  You took no notice of how I walked stiffly into the house.

Later, when he had finally gone and after I had attempted to ease the discomfort of my torn flesh with water heated over the fire, I spoke to you of my ordeal.  But the impression on your face churned what little there was in my stomach. 

You did not appeal to God or to justice, you appealed to the value of the store goods this man had delivered to your doorstep.  “Look at how much he has given us!”  You pleaded for me to take him as a husband; my ruin dismissed by store goods that were only valuable within their expiry dates.  Again, you dictated to me my value, my worth.

Then you went about your polite demand for compensation and bride price.  Did you not think to ask whether I wanted to be married to that man?  As you anticipated, he paid for what he had already taken and would continue to take by force every time he wanted to be with me.

All that you had ever hoped to receive for my “skin” was laid at your feet on the day of my bride price payment; live pigs, live goats, cartons of lamb and mutton, store goods, garden food and cash to sweeten it all.  The “eating from my skin” reached its climax that day.

You told me how proud you were of me for bringing in such a valuable haul.  You told me that no other girl in our family had achieved such a feat. 
The prized pig had now earned her keep.  She had been sold, not to the highest bidder, but to a monster that first stole then later paid.

Now my dear family and those who have gladly “eaten from my skin”, I would like to set the record straight regarding my value, my worth: 800 kina* and not a toea more. 

This should cover the cost of an inexpensive plywood coffin, a white meriblaus, a laplap and a set of bed sheets.  I have not included the value of tea, sugar and other items for the hauskrai because strictly speaking those things have nothing to do with my value, my worth but rather the size of your appetites.

* The approximate value of a medium-sized pig in the PNG highlands is K800.  A pig of this size is suitable for cultural exchanges that occur during bride price payments, compensations and funerals