Sunday January 22
An enjoyable final day in PNG.
Our first clinic of the day was out in a village district by
the name of Waru. We drove out in an armed convoy, a line of four-wheel drives
led by “security” (meaning a hand-axe and a shotgun). The drive out was so much
fun – bumpy dirt roads, dipping through streams, chatting in the back with the
others, hitting heads on the ceiling as we rolled through ditches. Through the
back window, the long grasses and palm trees on the side of the road rushed
past and retreated out of view.
It seemed that the experience of travelling in an armed
convoy, and the bumpy drives down rugged, unmarked roads, really rammed home
the fact that we were really in PNG. Everything felt vivid and raw, and I loved
it, that envigorating feeling of adventure and something completely different
to anything I had ever known before.
When we arrived at the village, we listened in awe to the
sound of people gathered in the wooden church hall lifting their voices in
song, naturally winding harmonies through a simple tune. Acoustic guitar and
ceremonial poles topped with colourful feathers completed the scene, a rare and
welcoming sight.
This young girl really enjoyed having her photo taken, and floated around the camera with a beautiful smile. |
The clinic was run in an elevated, open-air wooden hut. Mum
was perched on the edge of the steps (wooden poles arranged in ascending
position), coordinating the people to receive their injections and identifying
those in need of further help, looking at the general well-being of the person
as well as searching for the symptoms of ailments or injury.
Mum triaging |
Elayne examining a young patient |
Sue giving vaccinations to mother and child |
Squishy baby face - Elayne and a mother giving a child tablets for worming/Vitamin A |
Liz examining a young patient |
DON'T LOSE YOUR STANDARDS. We'd occasionally come across someone wearing a brilliant t-shirt like this! |
Jodee vaccinating |
Rambutan! |
Elayne looking elayted :) |
Pre-clinic quiet |
Liz looking peaceful while drawing up vaccines |
Patients waiting patiently |
There was also time to learn from watching some of the
patient consultations. There was a family with three children with strange lumps
on their legs and back, and some shortened toes. There was also a 96 year old
man who we discovered was a fuzzy wuzzy angel from WWII! He still had the scars
on his chest from Japanese bullet wounds, and had a hip problem which left his
leg protruding at an uncomfortable 90 degree angle from his body. He walked slowly,
supported by his crutches and family.
This has been an incredible experience, immensely helpful
for the beginning of med-school. Being around so many senior, experienced
doctors and nurses has been a great opportunity to pick up new knowledge and
skills, as well as meeting and growing close to a group of driven and inspiring
people. Learning the difficulty of developing confidence in making and moving
on from mistakes, and breaking out of dat comfort zone.
Much health care, so health care, very joy |
Adorable kids playing with glasses |
We ran a final, simple clinic from our base compound again,
then settled down for our last quiet night in PNG. I was feeling sad to leave,
and can’t wait to come back here again.
***
Monday January 27
We are finally going home.
A few of the Hep B tests from the clinics of the last few
days showed up as positive. Liz C told us about a young boy who had recently
passed away after bleeding heavily from the mouth (“like a hose”). Mum
recognised the likely cause of death as Hep B. To drown in one’s own blood is a
terrible and tragic way to die.
Packed up and drove to the airport. (If you could call a
small, fenced-off concrete building with a set of luggage scales and waiting
benches outside an “airport”). Strolled through the open-air markets by the
side of the road, seeing people selling packets of crackers, bottled drinks,
bananas and betel nuts from little carts or a blanket on the ground.
Elayne glowing + the magic of morning light |
We savoured the last view of clouds around a mountain in the
distance, palm trees, green grassy plains and hawks (eagles?) circling in the
air. As it turned out, the mountain was a volcano that last erupted in ’53.
Apparently if it does so again, we’d all be screwed.
The remainder of the day will be spent in transit.
Reflecting on what has happened and preparing to slip back into “normal” life.
Except, I still desperately want to hang onto that Itokama mindset that I feel
is gradually slipping away out of reach. That sense of awareness and awe,
immersion and complete appreciation of the moment, the teamwork and
camaraderie, that beautiful feeling of purpose and exhilaration. Out there in
the jungle, hardly a moment went by where we were thinking of our own selfish
thoughts. And for a few days, the reality of the Barai people was our reality
too, although we did have luxuries like mosquito nets, sleeping mats, food in
plenty supply, clean drinking water and malaria prophylaxis.
It is a shared feeling that the “normality” that we are
going back to will be a comparatively mundane one. Back to the extravagant
lifestyle of consumption and waste. But it is an uplifting and hopeful thought
that this feeling we have now is not going for long, but may develop into ups
and downs of sensitivity, disillusionment, awe, gratitude and bonds between us
loopy, sweaty, screwed-up selves.
For now, we’re all a little tired and in need of some rest.
But nothing can ever take away what we have just come through together.
As we say, what happens in PNG, stays in PNG.