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