What I did was madness for the locals. But, no matter how dangerous this city is, they are still filled with compassion to help and share.
By
AGUSTINUS WIBOWO
·4 minutes read
AGUSTINUS WIBOWO
Security considerations made the building in Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, generally tightly closed. The safety factor also makes almost no foreigners walking alone on the city\'s streets.
Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, is possibly the most unpleasant place I have ever visited. Two weeks in the city, I had not seen any single foreigner walk the streets of the city. Even, while living in Kabul, Afghanistan, with bombs exploding every two days, I still dared to walk everywhere by myself.
However, to recognize Papua New Guinea, I needed to learn the local way of life: walking and taking public transportation.
Here, it has been an adventure too.
***
I departed from the Indonesian Embassy, planning to walk along the John Guise thoroughfare with wide sidewalks. This area of government offices and foreign embassies, should be quite safe.
However, as soon as I stepped out of the embassy fence, I began to tremble. There were not many cars passing by, nor were there any pedestrians. What if a raskol jumped from behind a tree? I tightly embraced the backpack containing the camera in front of my chest, walking slowly. I only remembered my friend\'s advice: walk confidently as if you are used to it. I just smiled and greeted everyone I passed, in Tok Pisin language, “You alright, a?” The reply I received was a sweet smile. Some of them praised me, while reminding me to be careful.
My strategy was to find locals as walking companions even if it was just for a few steps. I managed to walk 1.5 kilometers after changing four traveling companions and arrived at a deserted Waigani T-junction.
Not far to the front, five tattooed youths walked slowly while whistling. I would be lying if I was not afraid. However, I managed to greet them, "You fellow alright?"
They smiled and asked my country of origin, too, “You enjoy PNG?”
"Of course!" I replied, making them laugh happily. We became traveling companions, until I arrived safely at my destination.
AGUSTINUS WIBOWO
Bus in Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea. Public transportation in the city is considered unsafe.
***
Hotel Laguna is like a fortress. I passed through three layers of gates, each guarded by a man armed with a rifle.
I came here just to buy a plane ticket. After the matter was done, I asked the tour bureau employee how to get on the bus to Hanuabada, a fishermen settlement about 10 kilometers south of the city.
The young woman immediately screamed. "Ride the bus? That\'s very dangerous! Why don\'t you just take a taxi?”
I showed all my money. In my pocket there was only 7 kina (Rp 35,000). In the wallet there was Rp 7,000. I deliberately brought rupiah because if I were really robbed, I thought the money with lots of zeros would be enough to make the robbers happy. Meanwhile, to take a taxi, it took 30 kina (Rp 150,000).
Suddenly, a ticket buyer sitting next to me responded to our conversation. The middle-aged mother in a flower-patterned negligee immediately took out 30 kina from her purse, waving it at me, “Take this and go!”
She said that even she herself did not dare to take the bus because it would be the same as to commit suicide. She gave me money, purely out of being pity.
In fact, what I did was madness for the locals. But, no matter how dangerous this city is, they are still filled with compassion to help and share. I politely refused the gift, got out of Hotel Laguna, looking for a bus to Hanuabada.
AGUSTINUS WIBOWO
Several residents of Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, waiting on the sidewalk sitting next to the city\'s public transport.
***
The street was quiet. There was only a young man sitting at the bus stop, staring intently at me with his bloodshot eyes.
I was very uncomfortable. As soon as the No. 11 bus approached, I immediately jumped up without taking into consideration where the vehicle was going.
All the passengers sitting next to each other in the minibus stared in amazement, as if they had never seen a foreigner take public transportation. They then burst out laughing, enthusiastically posing as soon as I pulled out the camera.
I really did not regret going on an “adventure” on a bus. Never in my life have I ridden a bus to experience such joy. Jamaican-style cheerful beach music thumped, making the passengers sing and sway.
Through the bus window, I saw the city of Port Moresby. The hills are like rows of curves, the dark blue sea is sparkling, the city park is beautiful with the cenderawasih (bird of paradise) monument. Filled with joy on the bus, for a moment I wondered whether the horrors people were telling were nothing more than an illusion from somewhere else.
