I think we might be facing a big adjustment when we return home. We have loved the community and our work here. We have lived with and loved the people of PNG for six months. They have nothing—yet they share what they have. When you develop a bond with someone here, you are truly family with them. We don’t know if or when we might be called here again, and it is very unlikely that any Papua New Guineans will ever come to the US. So goodbyes are emotional and very precious.
Just three more days here—and we’ll be heading home. We’ll take something with us that can’t be measured, and we may not know until long after we are home what we are leaving behind.
Today we were invited to a traditional mumu. A pit is dug and a fire built in the pit to heat stones until they are like steaming coals. It takes several hours to heat the stones, but then food is layered in the pit and it is ready to eat after 90 minutes of steam and heat. Kaukau (sweet potatoes), carrots, taro, corn, pumpkin, pitpit, greens and chicken (carefully placed on top of the greens so they would be flavored by them). Everything was covered with banana leaves, then a layer of plastic and several inches of soil to keep the heat and steam in.
But this was not an Ukarumpa event. We were the only non-Papua New Guineans there. It was at the home of the haus meri who had worked for us (and with us) for the past 5 ½ months while we were renting a home here. During that time we developed a close friendship with her, her husband-Sakias, and their children Natali and Blake. Today we met her older son, brother, cousin and elderly mother. Though my Tok Pisin is still Baby Tok Pisin, we were able to convey how happy we were to meet each of them.
There was so much food. The land is fertile here; and as long as there is enough rain, gardens grow well. Irie acknowledged how blessed she and her family are to have such an abundance. She filled a very large bowl with some of everything for Jon and me—enough to feed a family of 8 in the States. Before we ate, Sakias removed his hat and blessed God and thanked Him for His mercy and blessings.
And Irie really is blessed, too. Though her house is small, it has a door, concrete floors, electricity, telephone and wooden walls and the roof does not leak. The homes in the village just across the river have none of those things. She lives inside the fence in Ukarumpa so her family is safer here than in the village—though the same Raskols who break in and steal from missionaries here steal from the gardens, homes and chicken coops in her neighborhood. She has good employment with people who love her and where she is able to get a hardy lunch for herself and her children, do her laundry and use the oven for baking. Irie’s husband is a godly hardworking man. They have a son in college and two children at the school here on the center, and a garden overflowing with produce.
Yes, we’ve been given a feast. When we look at what she has compared to what we have, we are astounded and humbled. In our eyes-by comparison-she has nothing. Are we as grateful for all that we have? I don’t think so. Do we acknowledge God as the one from whom all blessings flow? Would we see it as blessing if we had so little?
Just three more days here—and we’ll be heading home. We’ll take something with us that can’t be measured, and we may not know until long after we are home what we are leaving behind.
Today we were invited to a traditional mumu. A pit is dug and a fire built in the pit to heat stones until they are like steaming coals. It takes several hours to heat the stones, but then food is layered in the pit and it is ready to eat after 90 minutes of steam and heat. Kaukau (sweet potatoes), carrots, taro, corn, pumpkin, pitpit, greens and chicken (carefully placed on top of the greens so they would be flavored by them). Everything was covered with banana leaves, then a layer of plastic and several inches of soil to keep the heat and steam in.
But this was not an Ukarumpa event. We were the only non-Papua New Guineans there. It was at the home of the haus meri who had worked for us (and with us) for the past 5 ½ months while we were renting a home here. During that time we developed a close friendship with her, her husband-Sakias, and their children Natali and Blake. Today we met her older son, brother, cousin and elderly mother. Though my Tok Pisin is still Baby Tok Pisin, we were able to convey how happy we were to meet each of them.
There was so much food. The land is fertile here; and as long as there is enough rain, gardens grow well. Irie acknowledged how blessed she and her family are to have such an abundance. She filled a very large bowl with some of everything for Jon and me—enough to feed a family of 8 in the States. Before we ate, Sakias removed his hat and blessed God and thanked Him for His mercy and blessings.
And Irie really is blessed, too. Though her house is small, it has a door, concrete floors, electricity, telephone and wooden walls and the roof does not leak. The homes in the village just across the river have none of those things. She lives inside the fence in Ukarumpa so her family is safer here than in the village—though the same Raskols who break in and steal from missionaries here steal from the gardens, homes and chicken coops in her neighborhood. She has good employment with people who love her and where she is able to get a hardy lunch for herself and her children, do her laundry and use the oven for baking. Irie’s husband is a godly hardworking man. They have a son in college and two children at the school here on the center, and a garden overflowing with produce.
Yes, we’ve been given a feast. When we look at what she has compared to what we have, we are astounded and humbled. In our eyes-by comparison-she has nothing. Are we as grateful for all that we have? I don’t think so. Do we acknowledge God as the one from whom all blessings flow? Would we see it as blessing if we had so little?
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