Papua New Guinea

The trees must go!

/ esteban / 15 Comments

A couple of days ago, Br. Jim decided that 5 of the coconut trees near the high water tank on the campus needed to be cut down.  He’s been worried that a high wind or storm may cause one of the top-heavy trees to fall, crashing into this very important tank.

A man named Max from the nearby village of Rempi was hired to climb the trees and attach a rope near the top, so that some of the brothers could control which way the trees would fall when cut.

Br. Jim, with his trusty chainsaw, did the actual cutting, a task he’s obviously skilled at.  Each tree fell with a mighty WHUMP!, sending coconuts and friars scrambling and leaving a noticeable dent in the ground.  It also dislodged a few hundred thousand of those pesky ants that I wrote about before.

I shot some video of this ersatz lumberjacking process and posted it on YouTube.  I know Jim Fox will particularly appreciate it.  Maybe you will too.

 

[youtube http://youtu.be/f1mZ6LdLhAA]

 

This is my first little video project using my new camera. I still have to learn a few things about it.  What do you think?  Please leave a comment below.    The video resolution may be a bit low, but even at this reduced size, it took almost 3 hours to upload.

Oh, leave a comment too if you have some ideas about other things you’d like to see from the environs of St. Fidelis.  I’ll see what I can do.

The photo attached to this post?  That’s kulau, the coconut water inside the young coconuts (not coconut milk).  This is a clear water-like substance inside the coconut that is very drinkable, full of electrolytes, and quite tasty.  It has a tang to it and reminded me a little of Sprite.  Not at all like coconut.

Divine Office

/ esteban / 9 Comments

I first learned the basics of saying the Divine Office (or Liturgy of the Hours) when I was an undergrad at Oklahoma State University.  My friend Dan Mueggenborg (now Msgr. Mueggenborg!) and I would make the short trip from campus to Stillwater’s St. Francis Xavier Parish for evening prayer, a few times during one of our semesters.

I didn’t learn it well then and I wasn’t all that committed in those days, but I guess a small seed was planted.   I don’t recall ever doing it again until we started offering it for students of the St. Philip Neri Newman Center, while I was campus minister there.

Some of the students would meet for Morning Prayer, but I was present more for Evening Prayer as students ended their classes in the late afternoon and were on their way home for dinner.

Here at St. Fidelis, I’m learning much more discipline in this than I’ve ever had before.    Although I’m a lay volunteer, the friars have invited me to participate in their daily prayers, meditations and Mass.  I have to say the regularity and consistency of this has helped with my transition into this foreign environment.  There’s nothing like the universality of the Church to make you feel at home anywhere in the world.

Here’s the daily schedule:

6am:   Morning Meditation
6:30 am:  Morning Prayer
6:45 am:  Mass
Breakfast follows

12:15pm: Lunch

5:00 pm:  Meditation
5:30 pm:  Evening Prayer
6:15 pm:  Dinner

The schedule will change somewhat when school starts.  Right now, we do prayers and Mass in the friary chapel.  When the students arrive, we’ll move down to the campus chapel with some slightly different times.

I’m still getting the hang of the meditation parts.  For now, I usually do some reading in the morning, and say a rosary in the afternoon.

BTW, here they use the British/Australian version of the breviary.  It’s quite a bit different from the one used in the US and I’m of the opinion so far that this one is much better organized.

What about you?  Have you ever prayer Liturgy of the Hours on a consistent basis?  Any tips on how to be more disciplined with it or to appreciate it better?

(I know my SQPN friends are laughing because of the early schedule I keep every day now, and how I used to complain about our “early” board meetings at 7am.)

Fr. Joseph

/ esteban / 5 Comments

By happenstance, I had lunch with Fr. Joseph, a priest of the Archdiocese of Madang.  It was a chance encounter, but I’m glad I had this opportunity.

When Fr. Joseph learned that I was new to PNG, he made the effort to tell me what it’s like being a priest with responsibilities for far-flung mission stations.

In particular, he told me about a group of parishes and mission stations that he’s only able to visit once every 3 months.  It requires taking a boat down the coast, being let off on the shoreline, and walking 8-9 hours to the farthest station, and then taking several days to work his way back.  He visits the faithful at the various stations, bringing them the Sacraments and performing numerous baptisms and weddings along the way.

It’s starting to dawn on me that almost every priest here has similar responsibilities and similar stories to tell.  Long treks into the backcountry, many different cultures and tribal situations to negotiate, being the true faces of the modern missionary priest.

As I ponder the rather cushy nature of my previous parish experiences, I wonder if I’m brave enough to go and visit some of these mission stations.  I wonder if I’ll have that opportunity sometime while I’m here….

 

(PS:  I borrowed the photo attached from this post from the Capuchin website.  It’s Bishop Don Lippert, OFM Cap.  of the Diocese of Mendi, but it should give you a bit of a hint of what priests like he and Fr. Joseph are tasked with.)

Rain

/ esteban / 1 Comment

I’m having trouble getting used to the rain here.  It’s not that it’s particularly bothersome, it’s just that it’s different.

At home in Oklahoma, we rarely just have rain.  We most often have storms that come with rain, and wind, and lightning, and thunder.    We like those quiet rainy days that come every now and then, but it’s not the norm.  We’re trained to look at the sky, chart the path of fast moving fronts, and calculate the severity of what’s coming up the turnpike from Oklahoma City.  It’s just part of how we plan our day during the spring and early summer.

Here in Madang, we’ve have had quite a bit of rain the last 2 weeks, at least by my reckoning.  No storms and only a little bit of lightning and thunder.  With little notice, the faucet is turned on, it rains several inches, and then it just stops.  No fast moving clouds, no enormous lightning or thunder shows (it does lightning and thunder some, but not like on the great plains), just a lot of water falling straight down.

And the water just disappears.

The ground is very porous, mostly sand and coral, so the water doesn’t really puddle up anywhere.  If we had the same amount of rain in Tulsa, we’d all be using boats by now.

It never occurred to me that I would miss Oklahoma storms and their awesome exhibits of natural energy.

I’m sure that PNG has its own such displays of nature, but I’m not sure I’m going to like them as much.

All this doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for the rain.  Fresh water anywhere is vital and that goes for St. Fidelis.  Rain water is the primary source of water at the school, collected in large cisterns from the roofs of most of the buildings.   They tell me that during dry seasons a well must sometimes be used but it’s often brackish and salty tasting.

I have admit that I was a bit leery of drinking the water from the cisterns when I first arrived.  I’ve had too many bad experiences in Central America with the local water to not at least give it a thought and a prayer before imbibing.

Happily and thankfully, I’ve had no problems, it tastes pretty good, and is abundant as long as it continues to rain.

 

 

 

“What are you looking for?”

/ esteban / 6 Comments

The Gospel reading and homily from today’s Mass (Jan 4 here in PNG) has been rattling around in my head this morning and I thought I would write about it while I still have a few minutes of internet time left.

The reading is Jn 1:35-42 and in it, Jesus asks, “What are you looking for?”, when he sees some disciples following him.  It also tells how Andrew, after spending the day listening to Jesus, goes and finds his brother Simon and tells him that they’ve found the Messiah and he needs to go meet him.  Of course Simon becomes known as Peter.  Andrew always seems to be bringing people to meet Jesus.

Fr. Cyril, the priest at St. Fidelis,  spoke of this Gospel reading in terms of vocations.  St. Fidelis is in the “business” of vocations. Our job is to help the young seminarians who arrive here to give birth to, nurture, define, and learn to care for their own vocations.  An awesome responsibility.

I wouldn’t be here in PNG if I didn’t feel a vocation for working with young adults.  That’s why I was in campus ministry for so long and it’s a big part of why I’m here now.

I hope I’m up to the tasks ahead and pray that I’m where God wants me to be and not too dull a tool for his work.

Of Grass and Ants

/ esteban / 5 Comments

Growing up in West Texas and Eastern New Mexico, mowing the grass was something that you could do every couple of weeks or so.  The common ants were called “fire ants” and built huge underground nests that killed all the grass and plants in a 5 foot radius.  The ants were large, slow moving, but with a firey bite.  As kids, we were fascinated by them, but knew to stay away from them for the most part.  Unless they took over your yard, they were easily ignored.

These have new meaning in PNG.

St. Fidelis, as you can tell from the photos I posted here, has large areas of green space.  All of which need constant mowing.  The school has at least 5 push mowers and a large tractor being used daily and yet we never seem to catch up.  A good rain and the grass can jump up an inch over night.  Waiting to mow is not an option and the grass is of a tough dense variety that seems to fight the mower at every step.   Still, it’s good exercise and I expect I’ll be leaner for it.

Meet my new nemeses.

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I haven’t had to give much thought to ants lately.  The ants in Tulsa are pretty innocuous, at least around my house.  A curiosity usually, but will give you an itchy bite if you happen to sit too near their nest.

Here in PNG, I’ve already encountered at least three different type of ants, some very tiny but extremely fast when they find something sweet to eat, like the sugar bowl.  The ones that swarmed ours the other day made it look like a miniature freeway.

The ones pictured above are something else completely.  I gather that they live above ground, inhabiting just about every tree and shrub in the area.  If they can find a leaf that they can roll cone-shaped, they set up house with great fruitfulness.

They are ferocious little beasts!  Perhaps because they live above ground, they are quick to defend their domain.  I first encountered them while mowing beneath a palm tree.  When I got too close to one of the lower branches, the ants would leap off the branches, onto my head, neck, arms and feet.  They’ve got a good little bite too, very noticeable with one, quite annoying if there are more.

Yesterday, Br. Jim (I’ll write about him another time) was attempting to trim an overgrown bush filled with these ants.  Every time he came close, the ants would swam over his hands and up his arm, forcing him to retreat or take a licking in the attempt.

I’m constantly on the lookout for them now as I move about the school.  I’m sure that they will be a constant part of living here and you’ll no doubt hear more about them in the future.

We may have found a chink in their armor though.  Br. Jim learned from one of the PNG nationals that the ants aren’t as ferocious in the cool of the morning or during a rain.  He tested this theory by trimming the same bush mentioned above during yesterday’s deluge and found the ants much more subdued.  Victory may be ours!

 

St. Fidelis Seminary – A First Look

/ esteban / 8 Comments

After my last post recalling my long and frustrating travel adventure to Papua New Guinea, I thought I owed you something more pleasing about being here.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t expecting this particular trip to Catholic HQ (Offices of the Archdiocese of Madang) and the use of the internet here.  I’ll be better prepared for a full report next time.

In the meantime, the slideshow above of random photos that I’ve taken this first week should give you some hints about the lush tropical environment and the environs of the St. Fidelis Seminary.

It’s pretty quiet these days with more than a month until the students arrive for the next school year.  I expect some more lively reports to come.

Four Days to Madang

/ esteban / 20 Comments

I have flown hundreds of times, more than I could count; across the country, to Central and South America, and to Europe. I’ve learned see airline travel as sort of a pipe that you enter at one end and have to just wait and endure what comes along until it spits you out at the other end.

There’s always a measure of frustration of some sort, either with security checks, bag fees, bad food, weather delays, crying children, or … something.

All previous experiences pale in comparison to my trip to Madang. The actual flying itself went off as best could be expected under the circumstances. It was the experiences on the ground at most of the airports that became an unforeseen type of torture for me.

I left Tulsa at about noon on December 18th and finally touched down in Madang, Papua New Guinea just after noon on December 22nd. Four days of traveling that felt more like six. I was never so happy as when I was finally spat out of the pipe in Madang, only 24 hours later than planned.

You might not find this interesting, but for my own recollection, here’s a rundown of my journey.

  • Tulsa Airport – after my farewell to Alex, I passed through security, and walked down the concourse like I’ve done so many times before. Weirdly, this didn’t feel all that different from all the others.
  • Boarded a United Express Embraer RJ135 for a 90 minute flight to Houston. This is one of those small jets with very limited storage space. I’m already questioning the size and weight of my carryon bag and backpack. Nonetheless, the flight goes off as scheduled. As I watched Tulsa recede into the distance, I was already praying for a safe return to my home city at some date in the future.
  • Arriving at Houston IAH airport, I had to pass through the infamous Terminal C, the one that I had to spend 48 hours in during a tropical storm in 2000. My previous worse travel experience, this was a premonition of things to come.
  • Boarded a brand new and pristine United Boeing 787 for the next leg of my journey, Houston to Los Angeles. This plane is awesome! So comfortable and has a terrific AV system and a large selection of programs to watch. These were the best 3 ½ hours of my trip. The only downside was that there was no food served unless bought for an extravagant price. Luckily, I had some snacks to tie me over.
  • Landing at LAX, I entered a land of confusion, delays, and disbelief that things could possibly be this unorganized.
  • My next flight was on Air Pacific from LAX to Nadi Fiji. A recent typhoon near Fiji had thrown Air Pacific into utter chaos. My flight #911 was listed on the departure monitors twice. I finally figured out that the 911 leaving about the time I was scheduled to leave, was actually the flight for December 17th, which had been delayed 24 hours because of the typhoon. My flight 911 had been postponed until the morning of the 19th.
  • I made my first mistake here by not taking the free hotel room being offered, opting instead to stand in line at Air Pacific to see if I could get on a different flight to Fiji.
  • After 2 hours in line, I was booked on another Air Pacific flight to Nadi, a charter that they had arranged to help with the backlog of passengers. I was told that it was leaving soon and that I should get to the gate as soon as possible.
  • Have you ever seen the security line at the international terminal at LAX? Horribly in need of a renovation and modernization. Another frustrating 1 ½ hours in line, anxious to know if I would make the flight.
  • Eventually, I make it through security and discovered that there was been a gate change, just around the corner from the original gate. And therefore, another hour delay for the charter flight to leave. So, really no need to rush at all.
  • The charter was handled by Ajax Air, a company that doesn’t fly it’s own flights, but flies charters for other airlines in situations such as these.
  • Our plane was an ancient Boeing 747 that looked to be 1980’s original. Everything was a dingy tan color, all very well used and with a minimal AV system. It was going to be a very long and uncomfortable flight to Fiji.
  • By this time I was so completely exhausted that I think I slept about 5 hours and I have to say the food was OK for what it was.
  • We arrived in Fiji after about 10 ½ hours from LAX. As the 747 bounced down the runway during a pretty hard landing, I seriously wondered if this plane had seen it’s last flight.
  • Air Pacific doubled-down on the LAX experience with the situation we found in Nadi.

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  • I can only guess that this chartered flight, added at the last minute, took their staff in Nadi by surprise.  None of the passengers transiting to other international flights, including me, had boarding passengers for their next flights.
  • The International Transit desk, with just two agents, was tasked with rebooking several hundred passengers.
  • Three hours stuck in the “no man’s land” of the arrival area, neither in Fiji nor in the departure terminal, there was no food, drink or bathrooms available. This was the first time that I thought passengers might riot.
  • The agents tried to organize the passengers by the next departing flights with only minimal success.  My ticket was for Brisbane, Australia.  Most of the passengers were trying to get to either Syndey or Melbourne.  Thus, I was of a lower priority.
  • I finally made it to the Transit Desk, one of the last passengers to be served.  It was then when the frazzled but apologetic agent informed me that I had no Australian ETA visa.  Since my arrangements were to fly to Brisbane, spend the night at a local hotel, and then fly from Brisbane to Port Moresby the next day, I had to enter Australia as a tourist.  This requires a tourist visa (aka ETA).
  • I could file for the visa online very quickly.  Unfortunately, wireless internet was only available in the departure terminal, which I wasn’t allowed to enter without a boarding pass.  Of course I couldn’t get the boarding pass until I had the ETA.
  • Luckily, I was able to get Margaret McIntyre, the CapCorps volunteer coordinator on the phone and she was able to get someone in the US to file for the ETA.  About 30 minutes later, all was well and I was given my boarding pass.  I still don’t know if I called Margaret in the middle of the night or not.  Either way, she was a trooper in helping me get this done.
  • By this time, I had missed my original flight from Nadi to Brisbane, so I was booked on an Air Pacific flight to Sydney, with a Qantas connection to Brisbane.  Sydney would then become the furthest south on the planet that I’ve every traveled.
  • I think I made a comment to the transit agent about being really hungry, which I was, so she happily gifted me a $20 voucher for food in the departure terminal.
  • With only about 45 minutes until boarding the flight to Sydney, I made a dash to a food kiosk and ordered a piece of grilled chicken, French fries, and an orange soda called Sprint.  Of course it arrived just as boarding was beginning, so I was forced to wolf it down quickly.  Still, it was rather wonderful at this point.
  • Oddly, I don’t remember much about the flight to Sydney.  I know it was a large plane, probably a modern 747.  I was so dazed at this point that I barely remember seeing glimpses of Sydney Harbor and it’s famous bridge as we landed.
  • The transit agent in Nadi told me that they would “try to find my luggage and have it transferred to the Sydney flight.”  So, I wasn’t surprised to find it missing when I tried to pick it up for Australian Customs.
  • I have never learned to plan for this possibility.  While my carryon bag had toiletries, I had not packed any fresh clothes, an oversight that would be important in the next few days.
  • Looking rather lost in baggage claim, I found an Aussie baggage agent who was absolutely great in helping me file a report on my lost bags.  Although it made going through customs quite easy, I was convinced that I wouldn’t see my bags or all my clothing again.
  • After a short wait, I boarded my flight to Brisbane.  So uneventful at this point that I really don’t remember much about it.
  • Arriving in Brisbane, my plan was to take a taxi to the nearby Comfort Inn, where a reservation has been made for me.
  • I remembered to get some Australian dollars for this, so I was off relatively concern free.  I’ve always had concerns about taxi rides in unfamiliar cities.  Nothing bad has happened yet, but you hear stories.
  • Arriving at the hotel, dead on my feet and having trouble putting words together, I learned that the hotel had no record of my reservation.
  • The hotel had never confirmed the reservation, made through Hotels.com, as they were fully booked.  Hotels.com dropped ball by not making other arrangements for me and passing that information along to the Comfort Inn.
  • As I staggered about the lobby of the hotel, the desk clerk attempted to get things straightened out.  Ultimately, the clerk heroically gave up the room she had set aside for her use so I could have a place to sleep.  She volunteered to sleep on a couch in the back office.  This was the second time today that an Aussie had come to my rescue.  When I can figure out how, I’m going to send a message to Choice Hotels in Australia and tell them about the great service of their clerk Johanna in Brisbane.
  • After a hot shower, a little TV, and a few hours sleep, I was ready to tackle the final legs of my trip.  Or so I thought.
  • I arrived at the Brisbane airport, hungry and jet lagged.  Breakfast was a lemon chicken sandwich, with salt and vinegar “crisps” from Subway, and a mocha coffee from the barista next door.  That pretty much used up the remaining Australian money that I had, but it was enough.
  • The free internet at the airport was a nice find.  It may have been the last time I was online, up to the time of this writing, or about a week ago.

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  • The next flight was Air Niugini from Brisbane to Port Moresby, just a few hours away, with a 1 hour flight from Port Moresby to Madang as the last step.
  • Oh, it should have been easy, but it wasn’t.  A cruel introduction and a reminder of what third world travel is all about.  I should have steeled myself better for this, but I was naïve.
  • The flight to Port Moresby really wasn’t that bad.  Some decent food and a movie, as I recall.  Sitting on an aisle, I didn’t get to see much of PNG as we approached, but the flight was relatively comfortable.
  • We arrived at the terminal, passed through immigration and customs, and found myself in the terminal with absolutely no idea what to do next.
  • I had a couple of hours to wait for my flight to Madang but I had to ask around to find out where the gate was.  I discovered that the international terminal only has information about international flights.  It does not have any information about domestic flights, or the fact that domestic flights fly out of an adjacent terminal.
  • “Go outside, turn right and follow the sidewalk to the next building, where you’ll find the domestic terminal.”  Right, that’s just what I’ll do.
  • Except, I have to fight my way through an unruly crowd trying to enter the terminal, through a cordon of heavily armed security guards, through a line of people waiting to go through metal detectors, and finally into the terminal.
  • Since I have a boarding pass, I bypass all the check-in counters, another security checkpoint, another set of scanners and finally find myself in the single departure area for all Air Niugini domestic flights.
  • This place was chaos!  Full of people waiting for flights, rows upon rows of dirty and dingy furniture, unintelligible announcements screamed through over modulated microphones, and very little accurate information being supplied to passengers.
  • I arrived in Port Moresby around 12:30pm.  My flight to Madang was scheduled for 3:30 pm.   I probably arrived in the departure area around 1:15 or so.
  • And the waiting began.  I struck up conversations with some ex-pats waiting to go to Madang.  A great conversation with a Chinese Australian college student.   But then flights started to get cancelled.  Not a good thing for a small airline with limited numbers of aircraft.
  • It doesn’t look good for our hero when the flight to Madang is cancelled.  We are advised to go to Customer Service where we will be given a voucher for a hotel and meals for the night.  We will be rebooked on the  next day’s morning flight to Madang.
  • So, off we all rush to Customer Service.  Another totally unorganized and overwhelmed operation.  After several hours of waiting, we were told that they were going to put on another flight that afternoon, leaving at 6pm for Madang.  So we all left the line, headed over to one of the ticket counters where they were rebooking passengers.  Things looked good.

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  • After making it through ticketing, back through security and scanners, and into the departure area, we shortly learned that our flight to Madang had actually been cancelled again.

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  • So, we all headed back to Customer Service, our little band of ex-pats now bonding quite well with this shared experience.
  • Finally, with vouchers in hand, I boarded a hotel shuttle for the Gateway Hotel for free food and an overnight stay.  I checked into the hotel about 8pm after being at the airport for the best part of 8 hours.
  • The Gateway was a nice respite from a hard day.  The restaurant had a Chinese buffet with some decent food on it.  I thought about staying in the bar for a little while for a beer, but gave that up when I realized that I dozed off while I was deciding what to do!
  • So off to bed for a fitful night’s rest.  Our flight was scheduled to leave at 11:55am, with check-in at 9am. None of us thought we should wait until 9 to arrive at the airport.
  • I got up early, had a decent buffet breakfast at the hotel, and took the 7am shuttle to the airport.
  • The chaos at the airport was tripled from before.  Somehow, by flashing my boarding pass and US passport, I made it back through the cordon of guards, the entry scanners and into the departure terminal ticketing area.
  • I have never seen anything like this before.  The check-in counters are flight specific.  That is, everyone for a particular flight checks in at one counter.  However, there is very little rhyme or reason to how they organize this, inform the people, or control the crowds.
  • There were easily 1500 people all crowded up to a security line, most with a luggage cart piled high with bundles.  People were crammed in shoulder to shoulder.
  • Not knowing which counter would handle the Madang flight, I took a best guess and headed for the middle of the crowd, slowly inching my way forward little by little.
  • 8am passes, 9am passes, 10 am passes.  Word passes through the crowd that Madang, with connection to Wewak would be handled at counter 6.  Luckily, I was close to counter 6.
  • Then the crowd begins to move with something like tidal forces as one group or another convinces a security guard that they need to go to one counter or another.
  • By this time, I have hopes of making my flight if I just bide my time.
  • At 11:15, I realize that this tactic won’t work.  I see some of my fellow ex-pats having some success at counter 2, so I manage to get a security guards attention and convince him that I need to go to that counter.
  • Some of those packed in around me are helpful in letting me through to the barrier so I can cross over to counter 2. Others are grumbling and upset that I’ve managed to cross over, but at this point I just keep going.
  • A different, larger security guard stops me to ask what I’m doing but let me pass, thankfully.
  • At counter 2, I slowly inch my way forward as a few people are served up valuable boarding passes.   It’s now well past 11:30 when I finally get to speak to an agent.  Since I have a boarding pass, she checks in one of my bags and tells me to go to the departure desk to get a seat assignment.
  • Fine.  I pass through security and scanners for the 3rd time and go to the departure desk.
  • They cannot give me a seat assignment because their computer has crashed.  So, I waited to see what would happen.
  • Finally, they told me to board the plane and have the flight attendant give me any open seat.
  • With immense gratitude, I climb aboard the very nice, air-conditioned plane, grab a seat and try to find some peace.
  • A short, 60 minute flight later, I land in Madang.    I spent 24 hours in Port Moresby.  Twelve of those hours were spent waiting in one line or another  at the airport. I pray I never have to go through that grinder ever again.
  • Arriving at Madang, I am finally (mostly) spit out of the pipe and met by Br. Jim Mungovan, Rector of St. Fidelis Seminary.  I had been texting him while in Port Moresby to keep him up to date on my flights.  A friendly face at last!
  • But no luggage.  I was still wearing the same clothes that I left Tulsa in.  Air Pacific had called me to let me know that they had found my luggage in Fiji, were forwarding it to Brisbane and would put it on the next available flight to Port Moresby and Madang.
  • I last saw my luggage in Tulsa on December 18th.  I arrived in Madang on December 22nd.
  • For the next several days, Br. Jim and I were assured that the bags would be on the next flight, each time to be disappointed.
  • Finally on December 24th, Christmas Eve, one bag arrived.  I finally had some clean clothes and my own toothbrush (I had a tiny temporary one)  after 6 days.  The second bag arrived on December 26th, 8 days after leaving Tulsa.  Miraculously, nothing was broken or missing.

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Looking positively at this, I am happy to be in Madang, happy to have traveled safely even though piled high with anxiety and frustration, and happy to have received all of my luggage.

I have a new-found aversion to any airline called “Air” – something.  But I’m sure I’ll have opportunity to let them redeem themselves in the future.

And I’ve learned a few new lessons on what to pack in my carryon bags.   I will never assume that things will go as planned, again.

 

(PS:  Many thanks to the Archbishop of Madang, Steven Reichert, for allowing me the use of his satellite internet.  )

Prelude to PNG

/ esteban / 5 Comments

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As I write this, it has been 13 days since I left my home in Tulsa for Papua New Guinea. So far, the internet has been a very elusive animal, creeping about, giving the briefest of glimpses but never making itself useful for any length of time.

So, I’ve decided to write blog posts as simple documents, waiting the time when I can cut and paste them into my blog.

If you’re reading this, I guess I finally managed to tame the beast for at least a short while.

The two weeks leading up to my departure were two of the roughest I’ve face in a very, very, long time. My level of anxiety was off the charts as I tried to make arrangements, pack my house into storage units, figure out what I would take with me, and most importantly, try to take leave of my family and friends, at least for a little while. I’m usually a good planner but I was not really prepared for this.

I could not have done it without the support of my friends, particularly those in Tulsa but also those from around the country and the world. Even though I told some of you very late of my plans to come to PNG, your advice and encouragement has been wonderful.

Three guys, in particular, really stepped up and went beyond what I should have asked them to do. Jim Fox, Brandon Pollet and Alex Carroll, each in their own way, assisted me by helping to move my house into storage, cleaned it to ready it for renters, helped me find solutions to unforeseen problems, assisted with repairs at my family’s lake property, and then they asked to do more. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to them!

Tuesday, December 18th, was my day of departure. With only 2 ½ hours of sleep, it was full of last minute things to be done before leaving for the airport. A quick breakfast at Village Inn with Alex, a haircut, a last trip to Goodwill and one more look at my luggage.

I knew there wouldn’t be much of a send off, it being a work day and all. Thankfully, Alex wasn’t working that morning so he drove out to the airport to see me off.

Nonetheless, I was grateful for a warm December day, clear skies and time to see some last views of Oklahoma as I winged south to Houston, the first leg of what was to be a remarkably tough trip to PNG.

So this is happening …

/ esteban / 15 Comments

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In about a week, I’ll be leaving my homeland of Oklahoma for a volunteer teaching gig at St. Fidelis College in Madang, Papua New Guinea.  At the invitation of the Capuchin Franciscan Volunteer Corps (CapCorps, part of the Capuchin Friars of the Province of St. Augustine), I will be teaching primarily English, but other subjects too, as needed.

St. Fidelis College is part of the diocesan seminary program operated by the Capuchins in PNG.  As I understand it, it’s the entry-level program for seminarians and is intended to bolster their education level, post-high school, so that they can go on to further study at the other seminaries in PNG.

Doing something like this has been on my mind for some time, essentially since December, 1999.  Some of the students at the St. Philip Neri Newman Center at the University of Tulsa, where I was volunteering at the time, were planning their own volunteer assignments after graduation when I became interested in it.  I submitted an application to the Jesuit Volunteers International and was offered a teaching position in Tanzania.   I ultimately turned down that opportunity and pursued campus ministry at TU for the next eight years.  The opportunities I had to visit those students who had volunteered in Nicaragua, Peru and other places kept the bug in the back of my mind.  As did the many student trips that we took to the Lake Atitlan region of Guatemala, Mexico City, and all over Europe.

Several years ago, before I began working for SQPN, I created a profile on the website of the Catholic Volunteer Network, a clearing house of Catholic volunteer programs.  Since most applicants are young adults finishing up their college careers, I didn’t really expect anything to come from it.

Surprisingly, about two years ago, I was contacted by CapCorps with this opportunity in PNG. Since my skills and experiences over the years seemed to be tailor-made for what they were looking for, I decided that I would enter into discussion with them, follow their application process and see where it might lead.

Every step of the way, the right doors seemed to open, the people I spoke to had nothing but good things to say about the school and the work of the Capuchins in PNG.

We finally reached the go/no go point and I made the decision to go on a 2 year commitment.

I realize that this is a very idealistic decision, especially at my age.  It was hard to ignore this opportunity as a person of faith and knowing the call to service and evangelization that we Catholics have.  Working in Catholic New Media as I have, it was also hard not to put “my money where my mouth is.”

This decision hasn’t come without cost, though.  Giving up my job with SQPN, renting out my house, and leaving my friends and family are just the tip of the iceberg.  My decision is placing burdens on my family, friends, and co-workers as they assume some of my responsibilities and support me with their friendship while I’m away.

I decided when I entered into this process that I wouldn’t make a decision based solely on fear, but to try to discern God’s call in this decision.  There’s a great deal of fear in this, to be honest.  A little voice in the back of my head, chattering away “You’re ruining everything!”  I hope not.

Here’s where I can sling more clichés about the road less traveled, nothing ventured nothing gained, no pain no gain, etc.

I think I’ll just close with the one that’s most often come to me when I need it.

Be not afraid.