Village Time in Wasabamal - The Hauskuk

How many times have I sat down to write a blog about our month in the village?
It's just so broad of a topic.
It's like when I come visit a place and ask what's new.
"Oh. Same old, same old."
And it's pretty unlikely that nothing new has happened in anyone's life since I last saw them, which is often a solid chunk of time. But the question is so broad that, unless something really major happened, it just seems like there's nothing worth reporting.
But I hate it when people answer that way. Because it ends the conversation. So I'm going to try.
…
…..
Ok here goes!

My main objective going out to the village was different than most of the students at POC*. While they were going out to get a taste of how people lived in the village on the day-to-day, we had already seen and experienced that during our time in Anguna in 2012 and my time in Samban in 2010. So our objective was to figure out how we were going to live life in the village on the day-to-day.


So the first thing, I guess, is house layout. When you're doing tiny living, layout and organization is key. Our space was about 350 sqft. The hauskuk (kitchen) had a dirt floor, where the rest of the house was on stilts. A window from the "veranda" (or room with windows, as I would call it) had a window opening into the hauskuk (which was very nice for passing things up and down!) That was the only window in the hauskuk. And it had a copper roof. So, needless to say, it was hot. But I digress. The hauskuk had a door that had been repurposed into a table. Which would have been enough space if we didn't need to set our stove and "sink" (two wash basins) somewhere. So we prepped at the table on the veranda and passed things up and down through the conveniently located window. But then Jacob was in the hauskuk manning the fire and washing dishes while I prepped the food. Well, this isn't really culturally appropriate behavior for a man.

Yes, yes, I hear your outrage and indignation at outdated gender roles. Yay feminism, boo dominance in the name of tradition. But this actually ends up being a mysticism issue. My sources tell me that Papua New Guineans believe in something that they do not call, but we would, juju. And a man engaging in woman's work is bad juju. And if you try to do things with a man with bad juju, then those things won't go well. So people may like Jacob just fine and recognize that he's serving his wife and that's all fine and good, but as long as they believe in juju, Jacob will be ostracized from various things. And that's not really a good position for a missionary to be in. So we'll combat juju when we can do it in ways that won't jeopardize our ability to share the Gospel, and where we can't, we'll trust God to as He transforms lives in Papua New Guinea.

Observe the inlaid basins

So we need a better hauskuk layout for sure, to maximize square footage.
An area for prep.
We'll bring out a more real stove ($215), so it won't demand counter-space (and to have more than one burner, and an oven! And not have to stand on tip-toes to look into the pot! Oh, I'm swooning!)
Windows. It was so hot, it was miserable to be in there.  
A spot to have my wash basins in the counter, you know, like a real sink.
And a pantry sized rat box (a box that rats have trouble getting into (rats can chew through concrete. You can't really keep them out but you can make it more of a hassle than it's worth).
....



Bam! Look at that! That's a decent sized blog post! With a description of our time in the village, a cultural tidbit, and a glance at the future?! Nailed it!
Let's see if I can pull off a continuation of at least equal quality tomorrow!



*Pacific Orientation Course - The three month training course on how to survive in the jungle that was concluded with a month stay in the village and just successfully completed by us!

Missing A First World Christmas

I'm going to say words. Because they're true and honest. Not because I have regrets. But because I have feelings.

One of the hardest things right now in this Holiday Season so far from home is that I'm a first world girl in a third world country. (I know. You thought I was going to say family. But really, I had braced myself for that. That was an expected struggle. This caught me unaware.)

I miss the hustle and the bustle of the holiday season. I miss putting on my pea coat and scarf and boots (oh! How I miss boots!) and going to the mall, all decked in Christmas cheer with seasonal music playing and people with parcels talking and laughing as they flit from store to store. I miss going to Starbucks and getting my red cup, regardless of what design is or isn't on it. A triple grande peppermint white mocha. And I miss looking through their ornaments and mugs and watching people pass by the glass windows while my coffee is being hand crafted. And I miss following whoever I'm with as they work on their Christmas shopping, because, let's not play, my income level was on the low side, so I wasn't actually involved in much consumerism myself.

And I miss finding the exact something I was looking at in the mall (but was a little too expensive to buy for myself, especially during the holidays) under the tree, because the person I was following saw me eyeing it and thought to get it for me.

I miss the spirit of giving that's found back home with all the atmosphere of the season mixed in. (Not that there's not a spirit here! These are some of the most generous people I've ever met, but the atmosphere is a little lacking…)

I know that the spirit of giving can become a little corrupted with the spirit of receiving and consumerism, but for a lot of people, I think that the "pagan" aspects of Christmas still have Christ at the heart, reflecting His gift to the world in our gifts to each other.

And I miss the whole shebang.

Here, stores have some garland and a garishly decorated tree. Sometimes Christmas music is playing but often it's a bit odd… Like the mash-up of Hark the Herald Angels and Dame La Gasolina we heard the other day. And it's really no weather for a pea coat and the lightest of scarves would be stifling. The other day I thought it felt like a nice spring day and looked to see it was 90*. 

How I miss all the little things "The Season" entails…

But even while I get tucked into bed with visions of lattes dancing in my head, I know that the reason for the season is Christ coming to the world for everyone. Even these people with tacky Christmas trees and an utter lack of winter here in Papua New Guinea. And we're here, my little family of 3 1/2, to help see transformed lives, through translation, literacy, and incarnational living. To help those far from God, to help the skin Christians (nominal Christians), and to help those with the cargo cult mentality (a mix between consumerism and the prosperity gospel) be raised to true life through the most precious gift of all: Christ Jesus.

So I'll download a Christmas music playlist, and decorate my house as pretty as I can, and watch Christmas movies, all shamelessly in the name of teaching my son American culture so he won't return to America as a bushkanaka (jungle hillbilly). And while I'm relishing in the semblance of Christmas culture I have cultivated here, I'll busy myself with work to help bring the Good News of the birth of Christ to the people here in their heart language, so that it can truly change their hearts.  

All of our work is done through generous people who are willing to give a bit of their income to the Bible-less of Papua New Guinea. If you would like to extend the Spirit of Giving this Holiday season to this ministry, whether through a special gift or a monthly commitment, you can check out our giving page or email me personally and I can let you know how you can help! Thank you! 

A day in the village

At about 5:30am, my eyes pop open. Usually this is due to the sounds of the village up and about around us. Light shines through the holes in the woven bamboo walls, illuminating the room like a disco ball. It isn't long before James wakes up, talking to himself. I can just make out his silhouette through the gossamer of my mosquito net, his blue mosquito net, and the mesh of the pack and play. He's sitting up, playing with his octopus.
Jacob and I untuck the mosquito net on our respective sides from between the 4" foam mattress and the linoleum sheet we had laid out to keep the bugs from crawling up between the rustic planks of our hardwood floor and into our mattress. I change out of my pj shorts and into a skirt before tossing the shorts under the protection of my mosquito net so a spider doesn't take up residence in them during the day.
Jacob is changing James' diaper. This temporary setting isn't ideal for washing cloth diapers, so we switched to disposables, using an empty pocket diaper as a cover to protect it from the grueling wear and tear James inflicts on it.
I make James a bottle. He's weaned but still taking formula and has made the switch to cold formula, which is lovely because its a hassle to get a fire or the stove going each time he's hungry.
The Berkey filter The Rising gave us provides "indoor plumbing" (as long as we keep refilling it with enough time for it to filter). I lay James on his back on the linoleum we have laid out in our living room (? They call it a veranda but with three windows and a door, it seems like a room to me) and give him his bottle.
Jacob takes a days worth of diapers and a bucket out to the outhouse to dump before returning to fiddle with the kerosene stove and get coffee started.
I tidy upstairs. After night falls, there's not enough light to bother with prep dishes or personal dishes that lasted past dusk. I pass dirty dishes through the window whose left half opens into the hauskuk, the room designated for cooking and washing dishes. There really isn't enough room to do prep as well so I do that upstairs and pass things ready for the heat down through the window.
We enjoy our coffee upstairs with James running around playing. The wasfamili is happier when he's not playing outside and its nice to have a good excuse to have some time for ourselves.
At some point, we're brought breakfast from our wasfamili's fire. The reciprocity culture here says we should bring something back but we don't make breakfast so we'll worry about that at lunch.
When James gets fussy, we go outside to let him play in the dirt. It's usually 7:30-8ish. Then its time to decide what to do with the day. Usually its too late to join people who are planning on trekking a long distance, which I'm ok with.
Sometimes we go to where the men are making thatching and Jacob helps.
Once we went to a garden close by and helped with planting yams. Today there's supposed to be a reconciliation feast we want to see. Sometimes its just a day to catch up on dishes or laundry or on writing.
Around 9, James starts to get sleepy. I'll put him in a bilum and give him a bottle to soothe him into sleep. The women normally walk the babies around until they sleep but I'm not strong enough to walk around with this chunky kid.
If we're at the house, we'll hang him in our living room, right in the center of the cross breeze. Jacob will pick up all his toys and I'll sweep the room with a bush broom that looks like a witchs broom without the stick.
If we're out, we'll find a tree or post to hang him on and shade him with an umbrella if need be.
His morning nap normally doesn't last an hour.
Before you know it, it's time to start lunch. I go upstairs to prep and let James run around with his toys.
Jacob goes down to make sure at least the dishes we need for this meal are clean and he passes me kitchen utensils as I need them.
We normally cook an abundance, enough for ourselves, our wasfamili, people we want to develop relationships with, and anyone who's around when we come out to share.
Cooking so much over a single burner means we're often in a race to finish before James afternoon nap, anywhere between 12:30-2. If James' wassister is at the house, she'll often come and take him, entertaining him while we cook. If we don't finish cooking by his nap time, we won't be able to rest while he sleeps.
After James' afternoon nap, normally between an hour or two, our son is lost to us as all the village children are back at their homes and just love to hold a white baby.
We try to start thinking about dinner at 4. If we're not finished by 6, well find ourselves cooking in the dark. Our lanterns are less than impressive and we don't have a big enough solar charger to use our phones on something as frivolous as light.
5:30 is an excellent time to go visiting and if dinner is done we can bring food to our friends, thus building relationships.
6:30-7 James starts getting tired and reappears out of the night. We give him a bottle before changing his diaper and putting him to bed.
Now if we were good, we would go outside and talk around the fire from 7-10. But normally we're exhausted, the heat of the day sapping all our energy, with the heat radiating down from the tin roof making it impossible to sleep that portion of the day away. And normally, as early as 7, the only people around the fire are our wasfamili who aren't the most stimulating conversationalists.
So we sit inside, enjoying some time just us. Catching up on writing if need be. When we get too sore sitting on wooden stools or the wooden floor, we move into the bedroom.


After getting tucked back into our mosquito net, we put a handful of skittles between us and enjoy a snack while chatting before we turn in for the night.

Christmas Wish List

Christmas Wish List
I guess it's starting to near that time. The questions been asked: What would you like in a Christmas Care Package?
Which is kinda a confusing question, because I'm thinking, "Care package items? Or Christmas items?" I think there's a nuance there...
So I made a list that includes both!


Snyders Pretzels Original
French's Yellow Mustard
Starbucks Latte Via (Jacob likes mochas, I like white mochas, cinnamon dolce, and peppermint mocha, specifically peppermint white mocha but i don't think they make the via form of that.)
Hot Cocoa mix (Jacob likes dark chocolates. I like milk and white chocolate. We both like mint, sea salt, orange, raspberry )
Silica gel packets (You can buy these but even the ones that come in bags or shoeboxes are nice to toss in our spice jars to keep the moisture out.)
Taco seasoning (we normally buy it in 23oz containers because we use so much of it)
Italian seasoning
Grill shakers Garlic Seasoning (we can normally only find this at Sprouts).
Sleepytime Vanilla Tea
Bavarian Blackberry Tea (We think the brand is Lipton..?)
Goldfish for James
Peppermints (rounds, stirring sticks, canes, we're not picky)
Orange extract
Peppermint extract
Candy (Reese cups, skittle, starburst)
Beef jerky (peppered or teriyaki) (If you claim this on the mailing slip or leave it where it can be seen in an inspection, it will be stolen. Everybody loves beef jerky)


Tortilla press
LED battery operated mounted light (bonus points for a remote)
Latest seasons of Once Upon a Time, Forever, Bones, Arrow, Flash, Gotham, the 100 (I don't know how overlap could be avoided except by sending iTunes cards)
Kindle gift cards are always nice. Jacob wants to start getting James some Dr. Suess books
And as always, coffee mugs are loved. (the wish list can be found on my Pinterest. I would post a link but internet in the bush is finnicky... My username is ElizabethVahey! ...i think)


You can send packages to
Pioneer Bible Translators
C/o Jacob and Elizabeth Smith
Box 997
Madang 511
Papua New Guinea


It takes about a month for packages to arrive. Possibly longer as people start going on holiday.


These packages will receive a fair deal of rough treatment so go overboard on the packing tape so everything makes it. Once the integrity of the box is compromised, it's all downhill from there.


Thank you all so much for taking care of us. Through financial gifts, prayer support,  and even your likes and comments on Facebook that remind us that we're not alone, we really appreciate you.

A Liklik Haus Story

It's said that missionaries have a relentless thing about bathroom stories. That and weird foods. And it's probably because bathroom stories are the most traumatic stories of all.  

But this is a bathroom story.

And it has to do with things that would lead someone to need to use the facilities.

As hilarious as this story is, if you don't want to read about that, by all means! Skip this article!

Just please don't be offended if this article mentions some things that aren't the most ladylike to be discussing in a public setting. I'm a missionary now and missionaries have a slew of bathroom stories.

This was our second overnight stay with our local wasfamili*. We had gone to bed about an hour before and I woke needing to use the liklik haus (the outhouse). But tired, and not particularly eager to get out of bed, I decided to ignore this feeling as long as I could. 

Well, not much time had passed when James woke up screaming and wouldn't settle back down. It's always hard to get him to nurse in such a new setting so I figured I had better try again. But first the restroom. So I had Jacob go to grab the screaming baby as I went out to the liklik haus. But the front door was locked.

Now as a safety precaution, locks here need a key on both sides. Too often screenwire is a main building material of a door or the window/wall right next to it, making it too easy for someone to cut through the screen and turn the lock from the inside.

But the door was locked. And apparently our wasfamili had gone visiting.

The baby is screaming. Jacob is exasperated, both by the baby and his inability to solve this problem. And my bladder is about to explode.

So I do the only think I can think to do. I take the small peanut butter jar we had reused to bring them milk powder for our evening tea, pour the rest of the powder into a milk powder jar she already had. And left Jacob and James in the living room while I returned to the bedroom.

Guys, the jar was nearly too small.

The second I had capped that lid and thrown the whole jar into the wetbag we brought for dirty diapers, our wasfamili walked up the stairs and unlocked the door.

Jacob gave James to me to nurse and went out to use the liklik haus.

We threw the whole jar in the liklik haus later. I deemed it unclean and would not want to reuse it again.

When we lay in bed, with the baby finally asleep and all bladders empty, Jacob let out a sigh. 

"What's wrong?"

"This is rough."

"Why?"

"Because the baby's crying! And you had to urinate in a jar!"

I laughed. "But it's over now! James is asleep. The deed is done. There's no reason to continue to be upset about what's done. It's probably never going to happen again."

I think we have a choice in this life. We can harp on things done and past and let them ruin our moods and our next moments or we can accept that not every moment in this life isn't perfect and move on. Focus on the good things instead and that will come out in your attitude and life. **

"... whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things." Phil 4:8 NIV  

*a wasfamili, literally "watch family", is the non-biological family who looks out for us. In the village, all interactions are done with a strong emphasis on "how are you related to me?" Consequently, throwing people who are related to no one is very perplexing for the village. To overcome this, we'll be "adopted" into a family. During our time at POC, we had a wasfamili who we "practiced interacting with". In our POC village living, we'll have another wasfamili who will take care of us for that month. When we allocate to the village we will be working long-term, we will likewise have a wasfamili there.

**This is not to shame Jacob as his true source of anxiety was that I was upset (or he thought I was). He's such a good husband to be bothered that I'm bothered and try to empathize with me if he can't fix it. 

Leaving for the Village

On Wednesday, we'll be leaving for the village living portion of the Pacific Orientation Course. This is the practical.

Over the past two months, we've been having lessons in Tok Pisin, the trade language here. We've been interacting with the nationals more and more. We've been learning and practicing cooking, both over an open fire and with local ingredients. And now it's time to prove that we weren't just day dreaming all day long.

So we bought food for a month. (Or what we thought was food for a month… How much rice do you eat a month? Do you know? Or do you, like us, just go to the store and buy more whenever you run out? Toilet paper? Sugar? Add a complete change in diet because none of your normal fallbacks are going to fly without a refrigerator and you might understand our confusion.) We bought basic household needs:  a bed, a bucket for hauling water, wash basins for dishes and laundry, mosquito nets, tarps for collecting rain water, etc.

We've spent the past week dividing and packing everything we own into what stays at POC and what goes to the village. (My sewing machine, our laptops, most of our clothes, etc can stay behind for such a short trip without electricity anyway.) (We do have a solar powered cell phone charger.)

We're so excited to head out.

There were some concerns. But we proceeded on the child like faith that we pretty much live our lives on.

With the same confidence that we had when we left the States underfunded, we are eager to leave for the village where, just a week ago, the house we're to stay in was a questionable state, an outhouse had not been prepared, and no idea what to plan for food for a month.

But Thursday we were told that if our waspapa (the man who will act as our father in the village) takes the time to buckle down and get the house up to snuff, he's going to be a great waspapa. And if he doesn't, there's a fallback village that has a solid reputation.

On Friday, we were told that the house is looking good. There were a ton of people actively working on it when they pulled up to see how it was coming!

And we brought 20 kilos of rice so I would be really impressed if we did manage to go hungry!  

So both of my worries that I decided would accomplish nothing by me worrying about and that God would sort out one way or another seem to have been sorted out!

So we have a few odds and ends that still need to find their way into boxes. At this point, we've fallen into the Oops Box phase. (Ordinarily, I would link back to my post about How to Pack Like a Rock Star, where I talk about the Oops Bag, but I pay per mb for internet here, so if you're really interested, I posted it approximately June 2014.) But we have two days (with the nursery open!) to finish up before we're off!

I have no idea what the data service will be like at our allocation. Even here on this mountain with 3 bars and just under 3G internet, posting pictures is a feat.
But I'll be back in town on December 1st! Completely done with POC! And hopefully I will have a good flow of blog articles to regale you of our time spent there and here at POC.  

Life at POC at 5am

It's 5am and I'm wide awake. If I were in my own place, I would just get up and start going about the tasks of the day. Today, we're going to town for a massive shopping trip and buying everything we think we'll need for the month of village living, trying not to err on the side of not enough and going hungry (or being stressed by eating PNG cuisine all the time) and trying not to err on the side of excess and perpetuate the mentality that white people have endless access to tons and tons of unnecessary cargo.

I need to prepare a diaper bag for James (between diarrhea and diaper rash, that kid has been going through a lot of diapers!). I need to double check my shopping list and empty out my bag so I can put in my wallet, my cell phone, and have room for some purchases. I also wouldn't be opposed to a cup of coffee.

But alas, I'm not in my own place. I'm in a room where James sleeps three feet from our bed and all our stuff is "neatly" stacked inside. Luckily, a POC veteran advised us to bring shoe organizers to have places to put some things and that's helped a bit. But when the schedule is as jam packed as it is, we only really use our room to sleep and collect/drop off our belongings. As in, we grab our clothes off the line, drop the basket (which is also the hamper) on the floor and run to our next class. So, the next time we have dirty clothes, they go on the floor until we finally get around to folding.

The walls (too smooth to be plywood, but I'm nearly positive it's not dry wall, maybe just sheets of woods?) are so thin, I can see light from our neighbors room coming through nail holes. Needless to say, the function of the walls is more for visual privacy than keeping sound or (*ahem*) smells in their proper place.

I could sit in the courtyard. The doors to all 13 units opens into it. There's a concrete cistern that pokes it's head out of the earth enough to find a seat on it, though it's not very comfortable. And at 5am, I wouldn't have to worry about the sun burning me, though the mosquitos would probably eat me alive.

If it were the weekend, I would good to my hauskuk (the structure we made as a "house" for our cooking) and hope there was enough kindling cut that I could start a fire without splitting firewood, always an unwelcome sound at 5 am. But not only is it not the weekend, hauskuk weekend's are over. The entire structure was torn down yesterday and the next time we cook for ourselves it will be in the village.

Instead, I'm waiting for my family to awaken. (Oops! They just did. Maybe I'll be able to write another post before we leave for the village. Though I hope I painted a nice picture of life here in my 5 am plight. Though, it's 6 now!)