September 2022 Village Trip, Part 5
This post is part 5 of a series about Jason’s trip to the Mubami people in Papua New Guinea in September 2022.
In this Post: Helva’s burial service, another haus krai, and illness strikes
Death, Where is Your Sting?
Last night was a long one. The wailing and mourning continued off and on throughout the night and into the morning. This morning, I was told the burial service would take place once the grave had been dug and the coffin constructed. The pastor of the church at Sogae, who was a missionary from the Gogodala people, had completed his term a few months ago and had cycled back to his hometown, so there was no other pastor in the village aside from Pastor John, the father of the deceased. So, they asked me to do the graveside service. When we got word that the coffin and grave were almost ready, my hosts and I went over to the church building where the family was. Helva’s body still lay there on the floor, covered by a blanket, and her mother looked physically and emotionally exhausted from mourning all night.
After a little while, the men brought the homemade coffin over to the church. The sight of the wooden box elicited a fresh wave of mourning from the family. The men carefully picked her up, using the blanket, and lowered her body into the box. They placed the lid on the box and began to nail it shut. The finality of the hammer blows sent a fresh wave of emotion and grief over the women who wept all the more. The finality of those hammer strikes made me think of the grief Jesus’ mother and loved ones must have felt as they watched him being nailed to the cross. What an awful sight and experience that must have been.
But just as those nails and the tomb couldn’t hold Christ back, so too I take comfort in knowing that those nails and the ground cannot contain the bodies of those who have trusted in Christ. While I didn’t know Helva personally, according to her father’s testimony, Helva knew Christ and followed him.
At the graveside, we had to wait a while for the men to lengthen the grave as it was several inches too short for the coffin. A group of probably 40-60 people waited under Pastor John’s house as they finished digging the grave, which was right next to his house. In the distance, about 40′ away at the edge of the clearing for his yard stood another headstone, that of a stillborn baby a few years ago.
The men digging the grave, adjacent to Pastor John’s house.
For the graveside service, I focused on the opportunity that such tragedies give us to reflect upon our own spiritual condition, mortality, and eternal destiny. I encouraged those present to repent while they still could, because death comes one day for us all, sometimes unexpectedly. Pastor John translated the whole service into Mubami for me as I preached in Tok Pisin. He wasn’t up to leading the service, understandably, but he wanted to do the translation. Again, I was impressed by the resoluteness of his faith. I also read some passages of encouragement, including Jesus’ words to the thief on the cross, “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” I also read from I Thessalonians where Paul speaks of the second coming of Christ and the future bodily resurrection of the saints.
“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words.”
1 Thessalonians 4:13–18 (ESV)
“When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
1 Corinthians 15:54–57 (ESV)
The family seemed to draw comfort from these words, and I had to wonder if perhaps they had never heard these words of comfort before. When I finished, I prayed, including an example prayer of repentance. The men lowered her coffin into the ground as many of the women wailed and wept. One elderly lady, perhaps her grandmother or great aunt, clung to the coffin as the men picked it up and lowered it into the grave and I thought that she would have surely plunged headlong into the grave with the coffin had not some of the women held onto her. It was a sight that will probably be forever burned into my memory.
Another Haus Krai
After the grave had been mostly filled in, I left to return to the house to rest for a bit. It had been an emotionally draining couple of days. A couple hours later, word was sent that Rex had prepared a meal at his house and we were invited. We walked down the path, using a canoe to cross the flooded portion of the path, about 1/4 mile or so to his house. Technically, Rex lives in Tiomi village, though an outsider would be hard pressed to discern the borders between Sipoi, Sogae, and Tiomi as they all run together like a miniature metropolis. I was glad to see that he had built his new house on the posts that he had previously set up for our house, because I knew that location would be unsuitable for a permanent house for our family. Its proximity to the jungle, relative seclusion, and proclivity for flooding would have made it a very difficult location for our family. The new location they have chosen—on top of the hill behind the Sogae church—seems like it will be a much more favorable spot as it is more centrally located, separated from the jungle a bit, and on an area that is church property.
The hill where they plan to build us a temporary village house, with the posts already installed. The hill is visible from most places in the village and centrally located behind the pastor’s house and the church building.
The meal, it turns out, was to mark the end of the haus krai, or mourning period, for Rex’s mother who had passed away in late July from tuberculosis. The feast marks the resumption of normal daily life activities (including work), which are culturally suspended for the immediate family until the haus krai feast is held. There were probably 30-40 people in attendance in the large haus win (lit., ‘wind house,’ an open-sided covered structure, like a gazebo, where people meet and socialize) Rex had built, and Rex had a list of people who were apparently eligible for the food distribution. I had been included because I am part of his family, his little brother. (I’m still learning what all is culturally entailed in this adoptive relationship.) Another feast will be held on December 20 as they place the handmade headstone over her grave. At that point, Rex’s father will remove the black bands from his arms and legs (which signify his mourning) and fully resume normal daily activities.
Rex and family gathered in the haus win.
Rex saw to it, as usual, that I received my food first, and the most generous portion at that. He justified it by the fact that I won’t be able to make the December 20 feast, so I got a “double portion.” One of the young men had killed a pig that morning, which they had smoked and then pan fried. I swear, it tasted just like smoked pork from a BBQ restaurant! (Though I’ll admit that several days of sago might have skewed my judgement…😂) I was embarrassed by the generous portion of meat that he had given me relative to others, but also grateful. It was the best thing I had tasted since my arrival in Kamusi. Along with it, he had brought me enough rice for two people, one or two packets of instant noodles, and a bowlful of boiled greens. I ate all of the meat and some of the greens and noodles, but still had enough food to distribute to three or four people when I had finished eating. I sat with Rex and the others for a while chatting and learning some new Mubami words and phrases, and then word was sent that Pastor Max had arrived and wished to speak with me.
The food Rex brought me–smoked pork with greens, noodles, and rice. Yummy! But way more than I could eat!
Testing
We made our way back up to Sogae, where Max awaited us under the house, along with at least 50 other people. It seems the whole village turns up whenever a car arrives! A truck had been coming to Sogae for other purposes, so he hitched a ride so that he could come offer me a ride to Kamusi and then on to Balimo. I had originally planned to stay in Sogae for a week or so, then hitch a ride back to Kamusi. From Kamusi, I would travel by boat down to Emeti, then on to Ugu, and ultimately to Balimo. I hoped to help a fellow translator (Phil Carr) with a communication issue in Emeti and make connections in Ugu village—a village that speaks a dialect of Mubami called Dausami.
Max had come to offer me a ride back to Kamusi—immediately—if I desired. He planned to go to Balimo the next day for some business with the MP (Member of Parliament) for whom he has been working the past several months as campaign manager. He knew that I had planned to go down to Balimo for my flight back to Ukarumpa. The opportunity to go back to Kamusi and the possibility of a night of air conditioned comfort was enticing, but I soon learned that he would not be able to stop in Emeti or Ugu and would have to go to Balimo and directly back the next day. I would then be stuck in Balimo with nothing to do and no contacts. Plus, I felt that my sudden departure would have seemed rude to my hosts, so I politely declined his offer, knowing full well that the weather might not permit my trip to Kamusi and Balimo later that week as planned.
Map of the Mubami area in Western Province, showing Sogae, Kamusi, Emeti, Ugu (the southernmost Mubami village), and Balimo. Tiomi and Sipoi are too close to Sogae to display on this map.
There was a big part of me that was itching to take that out—the opportunity to get away from Sogae and the difficulty of life here. Sleeping on a 1″ air mattress on the floor under a mosquito net with nothing more than a tiny USB powered fan is not exactly my idea of comfort. Plus, I was exhausted from the trauma of the past couple days. But I didn’t come here for a vacation, and I can’t accomplish anything of value while stuck in Balimo. Plus, there seemed to be a spiritual element of temptation about the whole thing, almost like a “turn these stones into loaves” situation—to take the easy way out. It was seemingly harmless, but the Spirit seemed to say “NO,” so I listened. It turns out that my hosts had been blindsided by the offer and were secretly hoping I would decline, so it seems I made the right decision.
My sleeping setup in Sogae–a 1″ backpacking mattress with a lightweight sleeping bag (that I usually slept on top of) and a mosquito net.
More Testing
Later that night, before I went to bed, my stomach felt a little unsettled. Over the course of the night, it got worse, and I had made several very purposeful trots to the outhouse by the time morning came. The outhouse was about 200 yards away, which feels like an eternity in such circumstances. As the day wore on, I made several more trips and dehydration and exhaustion began to take their toll. I tried to get enough water and electrolytes, but it was only getting worse. I feared that if it continued, I would not have the energy to make the trip to the outhouse, let alone the energy for using a squatty potty. I called Jennifer and told her what was going on, but even standing in the clearing to make the SAT phone calls was exhausting. I had begun to have sharp stomach pains as well. Feeling miserable and knowing that I was alone in the village, I desperately wanted to just “pull the plug” and call for a medevac. In fact, I told Jennifer to begin conversations with the aviation and medical staff, just in case.
The nearest outhouse is by the church building in the background, about 200 yards or more from where I was staying.
But then it hit me. I realized that over and over again during this trip I had been faced with temptation and opportunity to leave Sogae. That probably wasn’t a coincidence. Satan seemed to want me out of there, and he had almost daily provided excuses and opportunities for me to do so. Besides that, I realized that even though it felt like it had been days, I had only been sick for less than 24hours. Aside from the difficulty of staying hydrated, there didn’t seem to be any immediate severe threat to my health, just misery.
A typical outhouse, except that they’ve added a ‘toilet’ box for us.
So, I decided to try to phone the Clinic at Ukarumpa to get instructions on what medicines I might take. But the Clinic was closed (it is only open in the mornings) and my calls to the on-call line went unanswered. Finally, Jennifer managed to get through to the on-call nurse and relay her instructions to me. My SAT phone ran out of credits and dropped the call before I could get full instructions, so Jennifer called me back from her cell phone. But calls to SAT phones are very costly, so she quickly ran out of credits on her cell phone as well. To make matters worse, the internet at Ukarumpa was down again (due to the earthquake), so she couldn’t even get online to top up her phone or my SAT phone. So, now I was stuck without any means of communication as well!
Fortunately, before her call dropped, we were able to determine that it was likely I had Giardiasis, and that Tinidazole would probably do the trick. I’ll spare you the details, but the symptoms reminded me of the time I’d had Giardiasis in 2017 during our Pacific Orientation Course (POC)—that was the sickest I’ve ever been in my life. Fortunately, things weren’t quite that bad yet. (I would have had no choice but to pull the plug if it had been that bad.) So, I felt I had time to at least give the Tinidazole a shot.
Within 2-3 hours, it seemed like my symptoms were subsiding. As my mind began to clear from brain fog, I realized that this had been yet another test. I wondered to myself, “Why in the world would a two-week village trip merit such opposition from the enemy?!?!” As my brain fog cleared and my ability to focus returned, I picked up my book (Spiritual Warfare in the Storyline of Scripture) and began to read again. The first section I read was discussing I Thessalonians 2:17-18:
“But as for us, brothers and sisters, after we were forced to leave you for a short time (in person, not in heart), we greatly desired and made every effort to return and see you face to face. So we wanted to come to you–even I, Paul, time and again–but Satan hindered us.”
I Thessalonians 2:17-18 (ESV)
The author remarks, “Whatever the hindrance, the purpose is clear: to keep Paul from being present personally to encourage and strengthen the young believers in their faith.” (p. 100) What a timely reminder! I thanked God for giving me the reminders I needed, for providing the strength to endure, and healing from the illness. By the end of the evening, I was feeling almost back to normal.
The next day (Thursday), they began their Independence Day festivities. The big men of the village kicked off the event with roughly an hour and a half of speeches, then they began their soccer, basketball, and rugby tournaments. I sat with the men and enjoyed watching the games. For the most part, the day was quiet, and I enjoyed a much needed respite.
Well, until evening came, that is…
Me sitting with a couple Mubami elders, watching the Independence Day games. The oldest of the two (left) was a child when WWII ended and when the gospel was first brought to the Mubami people.