November, 1994 
We spent almost two weeks in the uninhabited Conflict Group of islands. We find the uninhabited places to be delightful simply because they have been unspoiled by population pressure. The reefs are alive and lush, and there's lots of everything. The villagers on the inhabited islands have to go rather far out in their small dugout canoes in order to get fish to feed themselves. The reefs near their villages are in general poorly stocked with any fish or shellfish. An Australian we met here said that nobody is hungry, though there may be malnutrition in places because of the extremely small variety of food. Root vegetables but no grain, no legumes, few sources of protein except for seafood. 
After checking out of PNG in Misima, we spent a further three weeks at Bagaman Island in the Calvados Group of islands in PNG, where we were absolutely charmed by the people. 

The people in the four villages on Bagaman Island were extremely lovely. Originally we had planned on staying just for two days or so, but we were made so welcome, and were having such a good time, that we just couldn't tear ourselves away. Foreign yachts are their source of hard goods, and they trade food or anything else we might want for our stuff - T-shirts, rope, etc. The first morning we were there a group of fellows came by in their sailing canoe and we naturally invited them all aboard. They were fun, interesting, quite good at English, and it was a full house. We told them we wanted crayfish (same as the Caribbean lobsters). They said no problem, they'd go out that night to catch them. And they did. Eight of them! Oh, Peter and I were in heaven (Peter more than me, since I had to cook and pick the meat out of them all). By the time we left we had gotten more than 20 crayfish. 

Several days after we arrived the weather turned rather boisterous, and we weren't too enthusiastic about beating to weather in strong easterlies, so we hung around for two weeks. They were planning festivities for the opening of their new Community Center, and invited all the crew on the foreign yachts in the anchorage. Since it meant only staying for two or three days longer, we decided to hang around for the party. They had prepared a schedule of the festivities, and on the list was "presentation of gifts", so I frantically worked to prepare an suitable gift for them. Hah! For all the guidebooks we have, nobody explained what we were in for. 

The day started with traditional dancing and food for everyone. I had made a few cakes to be included in the spread, which were not needed but were well-received. The foreign yachties were included in the special treatment afforded the government officials that arrived for the festivities - not for us eating with the hoi polloi oh, no, we had our own room and special servings of everything. Then more dancing, and a sing-sing. A "sing-sing" is pretty neat - everyone who knows the words and can sing at all gets together and sings - most of it is a capella, though two fellows had guitars and played along for a lot of it. The songs are, for the most part, church hymns in their local language and set to local tunes. Pretty music. 

Then there was the presentation of gifts. I got it wrong. The villages presented gifts to their visitors, including every single foreign yachty. Lovely woven Pandanus bags. In addition, I assume because of a few of the gifts that I had given to people, I got a second special gift - a "baggy", which is a shell necklace used as traditional money. Anyway, not exactly what I had interpreted as "presentation of gifts". Nice people. 

The partying, dancing and singing went on until sunrise the next day. And then they told us to come back that evening for more food and more sing-sing and dancing because the minister from Moturina Island was coming and they were going to do it all over again for him as a special farewell party - he is being assigned to another island out of the Calvados Group. They really sound wonderful singing in three-part harmony, though two of their basses wound up losing their voices after two nights of singing. 

By this time we were deeply involved in their community life. We tried to "trade" our stuff with them, but we wound up giving a lot away just for the sheer pleasure of it. They made a huge dent in my supply of costume jewelry. I tried, truly, to bargain. But I wound up finding all kinds of excuses for just giving them away. Not such a great act of generosity since they were very generous with their food, and were always willing to help us out with work on the boat. They're used to hard work - just surviving is a lot of work out here. 

We made such good friends here. One young fellow, Hansel, had a terrible boil on his arm that caused us a great deal of concern, so we had him come by twice a day so we could irrigate and dress the wound, and because the infection was so extensive we gave him antibiotics - twice a day under our supervision. Hansel is one of the happiest, nicest people you could ever meet. I later found out that the villagers think so also. He conned me out of six chains (one for him, then the next time he came out - one for him because he'd given away the one he'd gotten, then one for him because he gave his sister the chain we’d given him, etc.}. The day before our planned departure he came out to visit, and as we joked about getting ready to leave the next day, and the work we still had to do to get ready, Hansel suddenly got quite angry with us. We figured that we had teased him too much and he had finally gotten tired of it. Later he came out to apologize and make it up to us. Turns out that we was terribly upset about our leaving, and didn't know how to express it. It wasn't the gifts - when he was so angry earlier in the day I tried to give him the things that we had promised to him: a T-shirt for the sanding he had done for us, and some yacht braid for the crayfish he'd brought out - and he refused them and left in a huff. Although these people are materialistic in the sense that they have so little and need what we have, they are not manipulative nor are they greedy. They don't steal, and are quite proud of the fact that our possessions are safe. Theirs is a communal culture - although they seem to have personal possessions acquired through selling their pigs, or other valuables they create or collect, stuff gets passed around from person to person according to need. And value is pretty much a function of how much something is needed. It was very enlightening to spend time with them and immerse ourselves in their culture - we rather quickly had gone from being "visitors" to being "honored guests", and then one level higher - "family". 

We got a clue to their approach to foreign yachties about the same time: A few days before we were planning to leave, Maurice, the island councilman (in other cultures would be the chief or "bigman") asked Peter if he could help them fix their water collection tank. The government had brought out two fiberglass water tanks for rain storage, but only one had been assembled - the top and bottom of the second tank had been incorrectly drilled and the holes top and bottom didn't match so that tank couldn't be assembled. Peter of course said yes, and brought in the tools he'd need. He found the people to be a delight to work with - they aren't smart-alecky, know what they don't know and therefore scrupulously follow directions, and are extremely polite. What impressed Peter the most, though, was when Maurice told Peter how nice we were, and that we treated them with respect. "Oh?" said Peter "don't all visiting yachties treat you with respect?" The answer, sadly, was no, not many did. Then he said something else - "You eat our food." That caught Peter's attention, as it did mine, because when we were in with the other yachties for the Community Center festivities, I was asked to help the ladies serve coffee and tea. One of the Aussie yachties asked me, too loudly, whether it was safe to drink the tea and coffee, and whether it was safe to eat the food. I responded with a surprised "of course". The guide books tell us the importance of food in their culture, but we didn't need a guide book to tell us how to behave - common everyday courtesy is all that's really needed. The food is quite different - they don't make sauces, haven't got spices, and everyday food is quite starchy - sweet potatoes, yams, taro, pumpkin, with a little fish and pork in the morning. Evening meals is just root vegetables and sometimes tapioca cake (not to my taste - a bit like eating congealed wallpaper paste). 

Because of the remoteness of this chain of islands, they get very little from the government, and there is no medical person visiting here to teach them hygiene or treat their ailments. If they need medical attention they have to sail ten miles to Moturina - which is also where the only primary school is - in their local sailboats it's quite a long and uncomfortable haul. Bagaman has a local "pre-school" which teaches the children how to read and write their local language, and teaches local customs. But for education in English, math, science, etc., the children have to go to Moturina and live with a local family for the school year. Virtually nobody from these islands goes to school beyond sixth grade. 

Our leave-taking from Bagaman was very sad - we really hadn't gotten tired of being in this chain, and will miss the people terribly.

More... 
The villages we visited were exceptionally neat and clean, as were the people. Yeah, they have infections, flies, scabies, etc., but more from lack of proper medical supplies rather than lack of sanitation. The government is only as good as it has to be, but there are many things that are admirable. Our guidebook says that Papua New Guinea has 717 languages, 45% of the languages in the world (one of the most fertile and populated regions of PNG was not "discovered" by white men until 1930, giving some indication of the ruggedness and isolation of the mainland. 

With such isolation, it isn't so surprising that so many diverse languages arose); as a result, there is a great need to have a language of trade and mutual communication. Before the white men came, the language for trade was Motu, a southern coastal language. The white settlers introduced Pidgin (in Vanuatu it's called Bislama), 'baby-talk" English, as some people call it, which is taught most places in PNG. But at least in the Louisiades the government and church schools teach English, which is a sensible approach since PNG's major business and trading partner is Australia. These little village schools haven't got much, and the children don't go to school for very long, but they are educated. We were surprised that the children could point out on the map the USA, Australia, PNG, etc. Unsophisticated they may be, but they aren't stupid. We were told that the schools teach them basic hygiene, how to control flies and mosquitoes, how to keep clean and healthy. 

The government sends a visiting medical technician around to the islands about once a month to check everybody and treat ailments. Things that can't wait require a sailing trip to a clinic on one of the larger islands. Maybe not what we're used to, but reasonably effective. 

Papua New Guinea seems to have a democratic system of government well-entrenched in their culture on the village/island level, at least in the outlying islands. There is a cute story about elections held after PNG gained its independence, which I quote from "Papua New Guinea, A Travel Survival Kit": 

"The people of New Hanover are best known for their brave attempt to buy the US President, Lyndon Johnson. When the first House of Assembly elections in PNG were held, the New Hanover voters decided, quite reasonably, that if this was democracy and they could vote for whoever the liked they might as well vote for Lyndon Johnson. 

"New Hanover went 'all the way with LBJ', but when the American President showed no sign of taking up the island's cause the islanders decided to take more direct action. They refused to pay their taxes and instead put the money into a fund to 'buy' him. They raised quite a large sum but even this example of Texas-style capitalism failed to bring the man to New Hanover. 

"Eventually the Johnson cult died out and the events were all but forgotten. Until someone on the island started selling Johnson outboard motors. Well, you can imagine..." 

The chief of Hummock Island was from another island but had married a woman from Hummock, and the villagers asked him to be their chief. It was a well-run village with healthy and happy people, and the cooperation of the entire village to provide for the influx of 100 outsiders was impressive. We were pleased to have played a part, as small as it was. 

The sailing canoes of the Lousiades are interesting. Crude dugouts with an outrigger and a tree for a mast, their sails are usually rice bags sewn together with local vines, lateen-rigged. The sail is raised with bits of rope that has washed ashore, so it is usually in short lengths tied together. In the large canoes suitable for sailing between islands, a young fellow is sent up to the top of the mast so that as the sail is raised he can untie the rope, thread the end through the hole at the top of the mast and retie it on the other side. It takes three or four young men to haul their sail, and it’s a slow process, depending on the lengths of the rope sections they have access to. 

Peter couldn’t resist helping the fellows. He dug out from our lockers two old double blocks and some old yacht braid (not good enough to use for rigging, too good to throw away) and proceeded to supply a properly rigged sail. He started out by demonstrating the mechanical advantage of multiple blocks. He attached one block to a tree and told the boys to hold the rope attached to the other block. They were going to have a tug of war – Peter against eight young village boys. Peter won. They were suitable impressed. He then proceeded to rig the canoe, and they thought it was magic. Isaiah, the owner of the canoe, stood in the canoe and pulled the sail up, let it down. Pulled it up, let it down. What an improvement! No knots in the rope, one person could do all the work! It was liberating.
 

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