PNG

A couple of weeks ago I took trip to PNG. 

It was an odd experience. 

It is only an hour and a half flight from Cairns to Port Moresby, but it is like stepping off the plane into Africa. In fact the whole experience was like being in Africa. It is so strange how it can be so close, yet have such a huge difference in development. 

Moresby was exceedingly hot (much like Cairns), but fortunately I was not staying there - so took another one hour flight upto Mount Hagen - the main MAF base. Where PNG is much like Africa (speaking in very broad terms), it is interesting how one MAF programme is much like another! It felt very familiar to stay in a MAF guesthouse (although they call them 'transit houses') and to be on hospitality (although quite weird to be on the receiving end rather than the hosting end. 

PNG is the biggest MAF programme in the world - flying almost as many hours as all the African programmes combined. However they are going through some transition at the moment, and have had a tough year with a shortage of pilots, which has had a significant impact on their ability to meet the needs they face. Next year they are hoping to increase pilot numbers (although it takes a LONG time for pilots to become fully operational due to the riskiness of the terrain). However they will be facing a significant shortage in engineering staff, as both the existing expat engineers will be leaving. Unless they find a replacement for the Chief Engineer they will be in a very sticky spot 😓

I was fortunate enough to be able to jump on a short flight to Mendi - about half an hour round trip. It was nice to be a bit closer to the action again - if only for a short while! Here are a few piccies

All the guys from the compound I was staying on take a MAF bus to and from the hangar. It is about a

15 minute drive, and gave me ample time to ponder the surroundings. Here are some rambly jottings that resulted...

The scrawny dogs nosing through piles of rubbish at the side of the road
The down at heel and the no heels at all
The worn down mothers with their snotty nosed kids
The roads crumbling at the edges and cavernous potholes waiting to swallow you whole
Th ubiquitous corrugated iron
The endless procession of battered minibuses and shiny 4x4s
The crowds of people massed at the road sides waiting for who knows what
The seamless intermingling of English and localese
The endless roll call of recent deaths

The mess, the dirt, the grime and the life

This is Africa

but wait, it's not...