SOS Visits Papua New Guinea - No Roads Expedition
Claire Lane, the founder of Save Our Supplies, was awarded the Westpac Social Change Fellowship for 2024. As part of her fellowship, she visited the very communities our supplies help, starting with PNG.
This is a behind-the-scenes look at her recent trip, who she met, and what she discovered.
Day 1
I flew from Port Moresby to Tufi. Port Moresby was quite eye-opening. Rubbish and food waste lined the streets, and the smell was terrible.
We had to wait a couple of hours to get on the plane due to weather issues.
We landed on a tiny airstrip in Tufi, a much softer landing than expected. The view from our tiny plane and the short drive to the Dive resort were beautiful. We had to wait a few hours because they couldn’t get fuel in the boat. I was quite happy because I wanted to rest.
From the boat, we picked up Sister Maggie, health extension officer Alice and Ivan, a community health volunteer. We travelled a few hours to pick up Martin, another community extension officer in a different province.
The trip had been smooth – the dive boat hurt, but we headed straight into the wind as soon as we turned the point. Every one of us got soaked because the waves just cleared the bow and drenched us.
We arrived at a little village called Gregerawa. It took us a good hour or so to get in because the tide was out. The villagers had to come out in a boat to guide us. We got stuck so many times that we all got out of the boat and walked to make it lighter.
I was slightly nervous when the villagers picked us up with bright red teeth and machetes. The bright red teeth are from betel nuts, which have hallucinogenic properties. They crush them down, do something with a lime stick, and chew them.
When we finally pulled in, the entire village came to greet us. Spearmen came and threw spears just above our heads. We were welcomed by village dances and school children dressed in traditional costumes.
They sang us all the way to the village. The makeshift bridges they constructed for us were incredible. While still singing, they took us to a table where they had lunch for us (it was almost 5 pm – they had been waiting all day).
I finally got into dry clothes and had to go down for dinner—there was so much fish! I felt bad because two ladies sat there the entire time, fanning the flies while the villagers watched us eat.
I didn’t sleep much that night. It was hot and stuffy, and there were so many new noises to listen to.
Day 2
Up at 7 am, again, we were given a massive spread of food. The villagers watched us, girls fanning the food. There was so much fish, and the village band played to us.
We returned to the dive boat (we only got bogged down a few times) and headed to Kewansasap. This was the first time I saw No Roads bring out the first aid kit for the schoolchildren. Sue and Di are absolute powerhouses. I mostly sat and observed while they explained the kits. They are training local teachers and health volunteers to do basic first aid.
It started slowly, but after a short while, we were surrounded by children. I have never seen so many children with such infected wounds. I learned about tropical ulcers, yaws and grilla. Gloves are hard to come by, so we only wore one to make them last longer.
This poor boy came up with a massive yaws sore, surrounded by hardened pus that we couldn’t debride. There were knife wounds and burns, all infected. I had no gloves, only an occasional bit of hand sanitiser.
We finished the Kits for Kids project, and the local kids (like every one of them!) took me to the primary school. They all laughed when I tripped over a sneaky wire in the gap to go into the bushes. When we came back, they held it down and giggled when I stepped back over.
I visited during the height of the clinic when Maggie came to treat the village. She can give out medicines and antibiotics that we can’t. There was a line of people waiting on a log, kids waiting in the trees, and that was only the side where Maggie’s table was.
I watched Sue during the first couple of treatments because I didn’t know what we were allowed to do, and I’m not a ward nurse (I like my people unconscious, being a nurse used to theatre work!). They used tattered paper as a health book, and I had to read out very hard-to-pronounce names.
Most of them were elderly women with arthritis; all we could do was give them a few Panadol. A lot of them just wanted the Panadol and we hoped it helped.
Again, with the yaws and tropical ulcers, I don’t know how these kids stand it. The smell! One lady (they don’t treat the adults first), but an exception was made for this 20-year-old mother). She had a plantar wart removed. It was so infected that there was a hole in her heel, just bigger than a 10c piece. The skin around it had sloughed away, and the muscle underneath was exposed.
I made a makeshift dressing by cutting up a piece of foam to cover and cushion the hole. I couldn’t clean all the sand out because we didn’t have enough clean water, so good enough had to be good enough. There’s no way that it is going to heal without ongoing antibiotics and possibly a skin graft.
When we were leaving, I couldn’t help but play tickle monster with the kids. I didn’t catch even one of the hundreds of kids and almost died from the heat, and the fact that I never run.
When we got back to Gregerawa, we got bogged so many times. At one point, every one of us was in the water pushing the boat, with one person walking in front trying to see where it was getting deeper.
I thought getting in the first time was hard; this took twice as long. When we got back, I could barely walk; between chasing the kids and pushing the boat, I was exhausted. We were given more food, more songs, and more fish.
Maggie and Martin said they were okay with the clinic and to sit down and relax, which they did until word spread throughout the village that people were here to help.
The village spread all the way down the river to the beach, where we kept getting bogged. Suddenly, hundreds of people gathered, and we had to finish everything before sundown at five (it was 3:30).
It was awful telling parents we couldn’t help their children with worms – we didn’t have anti-worming with us. I’ll write it down for next time and remember to ask.
Or grilla—they need anti-fungal cream. We don’t have it, sorry. Or scabies—they need cream, so there’s no point washing sheets, etc. You just have to wait.
One little girl’s yaws were so infected and dressed in the dirtiest bandage. I had to get forceps to pull the dressing off. Underneath, it was almost glued to the wound with pus. It was too big to put a waterproof dressing on (not that they stick well in the humidity), so I tried, but I don’t think the bandage will stay clean for long. The poor little love was scared and frozen. She didn’t move from the spot for almost half an hour after I walked away.
I swear I almost passed out at one point. I probably did because Al ran and got me water, and Sue wanted me to go sit down. I was so sunburned (we left so early that I was half asleep and forgot to put sunscreen in my bag). I was pouring sweat. My clothes were drenched as if I’d jumped into the ocean.
After more fish, fanning fly girls, and villagers watching us eat, I still felt awkward, so I went to bed at 7 pm.
Day 3
I woke up at the crack of dawn. There were more fish, more songs, more staring. The community performed a leaving ceremony, which was just so lovely. They apologised if their service or our beds weren’t nice enough. They sang and gave us so many gifts—too many gifts!
Each one came and shook our hands or hugged us to thank us. Again, I felt sorry for the kids because some of them were very shy and didn’t want to. The entire village walked us to the boat to say goodbye and stood and watched us off until we were out of sight.
We only got bogged down a couple of times on the way out. But a couple was enough. Then the boat broke. It took about an hour for Trev to fix it using whatever materials he could find.
The next village we visited was Airara. We were again met by all the children. The village leader took us to the school to start the NRE project and teach the teachers and community health volunteers first aid.
She said it was my turn to do the spiel. So, I emptied the first aid kit and explained how to use each item in as simple terms as possible. Then, I treated a couple of tropical ulcers and let the teachers and volunteers do the rest.
I stepped in with some of the more open ones, but they really picked it up quickly. One little boy had a knife wound on his foot, and you could see part of his bone. Di took care of that one.
The schools are very simple structures. One classroom was an open shack with a tin roof that didn’t keep the rain out, and it leaked onto the desks. I got to know the main teacher, Eanny. He was so lovely. He comes from a different village just to teach and doesn’t get paid for it.
The villagers cooked another massive spread—yes, more fish—while the rest of the village watched us eat. On the way out, I somehow found myself playing tickle monster with the kids again. I cuddled the cutest little baby with the awesome name, Claire. I had a nice long hug with Eanny, and we were back in the dive boat and on to the next village.
The next village is called Uiaku (pronounced Koo). I swear there were about 1,000 people lining the shore to greet us. Sue said she’d never seen so many kids in one village, and Maggie said it’s one of the most densely populated villages in PNG.
There were more tribal dancers with spears pretending to throw them at us this time, not actually throwing them. We had to wait for the Chief to wave us in before we came ashore. We then couldn’t walk in front of the Peaceman we brought with us from Airara. I can’t remember his name, so he will forever be Peaceman. He made us walk very slowly while the village dancers made a row for us to walk through, then stopped so they could get back in front of us and dance us to the middle of the village.
They took us into a shelter and brought more food. I felt bad for not eating it, but the No Roads people said thank you, as we just ate, and we need to set up our beds, and we will eat soon.
It seemed like half the village came to help us set up the mozzie nets. We were in the old aid post, so we had separate little stalls and mattresses. At one point, one of the older women was up on the stall wall, hanging off the roof to hang them up. I tried to clean my SOS shirt with soap in the river.
Walking back up to the room, I managed to engage in tickle monster again with these village kids. Seems to be universal fun, and I’m a sucker for cute giggly children. They waited outside my room for me to come out for dinner.
There was more fish! But there were also a bunch of amazing vegetable dishes. The village sat and watched us eat again—I still felt awkward, especially when the women stood there waiting to take the plates.
Later, in my little dorm room, I was sweltering under the mozzie net with my little headlight so I could write this. Note for next time – don’t start a journal on day 3; your wrist cramps and brain power will thank you. Also, future Claire, bring an effing solar-powered portable fan!!
Day 4
Today started off slow, even though I was still up at 7 am. I packed up quickly and waited. They have a saying here, which is “hurry up and wait.” We went for a walk around Uiaku; it’s actually like a little island. So we had to go over a very slippery wooden bridge. One of the elders took us around the village, explaining everything, including the backstories. Out of around 30 houses/shelters around us, we sat in the middle of a field in the pouring rain.
We went through the primary schools, and then we went to the Reverend’s house for a visit. They sat and talked about the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels and all the help they gave during WWII. Apparently, the villagers from this Province did all the heavy lifting to help. The people in Kokoda ran and hid in the forest. The people in this Province helped carry ammo, cannons, guns, etc., all the way to the Track.
We went back and did another school first aid kit session. I really enjoyed this one. I started to let the volunteers do more (which I should have done before, but it didn’t quite sink in). These ladies were great, though. It was awesome to see how happy they were when they did well.
On the way out, I received many hugs and kisses, and many women told me their names were Claire or their daughters’. The kids learned to say “bye Claire” and would shout it at me and giggle. They yelled like crazy all the way until the boat was out of sight.
We had a lovely, smooth boat ride—the water was like glass. We arrived on the beach and walked for about an hour up to another village (I’m not sure of the name).
When we arrived at Wanigela, an older lady came out to sing a welcome to us with flowers.
I went and looked at the three medical facilities. One was run down and not in use. The roof and foundation were still good, so Al and Trev sat brainstorming how they would renovate it.
The hospital that was running was very simple and in need of supplies.
Next was the obstetrics ward. The ward beds were made out of wood—there were only two—and the patients brought their own linen.
The outpatient clinic looked a bit like a building site. The frame was up and it had a roof, and that’s it so far.
We were given another massive spread of food, and yes, more fish, but there was chicken this time, so I was pretty excited and was only watched by a couple of people.
I headed to bed by 7:30 p.m., but bed bugs were biting me, so I needed to find my sheet to lay over the mattress.
The toilets were challenging for someone from Australia—they are just holes in the ground—but the toilets here weren’t deep enough and were in a rusty old tin shed where the rain came through.
On my way to the toilets at night, 100’s of cockroaches ran away. Because the toilet was just a hole, I was so scared one was going to fall on the back of my neck.
Day 5
Martin, one of our community health officers, was from this village.
We went on the tray of a truck down to the boat. It was fun. I haven’t ridden in the back of a car since it was ‘acceptable’ in the 90s. There were a few little comments on whether the rascals blocking the road a few times would let us through peacefully.
We got on the boat from a very rusty barge used to transport the logs. But this one was broken and half-submerged into the water.
We then went to Aiyuwan (pronounced "are you one"), Ivan’s home village (another one of the village health volunteers who was with us). We waited a long time for the teachers to come down from the jungle, but they never showed up.
We did a small clinic, probably the tamest of them all. We could only get two volunteers this time (one male and one female). I trained the male, and it was so sweet. He was so gentle, putting bandaids on and in such deep concentration.
One kid kept smacking the other kids over the head to get to the front. I ensured he got no lollies or toothbrushes we were handing out. He was not impressed!
We made a quick stop at Sinifara to see how the aid post was going.
Back in the boat to Tufi, we looked at the sea ambulance No Roads funded to build. It hasn’t been operational since October because some know-it-all thought it needed a roof, which made it too top-heavy and rocked side to side too much.
We went up to their aid post, and one of the sisters showed me around; she was very happy I was there. I introduced myself to the rest of the ladies there and told them what I did and my plans.
They all hugged me and told me that God blessed them with me. When they returned with us to the dive resort, I found out that they were the village health volunteers that No Roads met with and gave them first aid for the schools. Some of them had walked for hours to Tufi to get their kits refilled.
We looked at a rundown building just across from the aid post that they were thinking of turning into a medical warehouse. The building's bones and foundation were good, and they had used some resourceful methods of repair. You should have seen the looks on their faces when I said I could stock that facility ten times over already!
We stayed back at the dive resort for a few hours. We weren’t sure we were going to get back because it was pouring down raining.
But we made it back in. I had one last dinner with No Roads, a very long-awaited shower, and a sleep in an actual bed.
Last Day
I was up at 5:30 a.m., and I boarded my plane back to Brisbane.
This trip was amazing, eye-opening and absolutely exhausting.
But it has re-sparked my fire and passion for what I’m trying to do with SOS. Seeing firsthand how much supplies and assistance could help, I’m more determined than ever to make the SOS programme mandatory in Australia.
