Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Development: Insight From The Next Generation

What does development mean for PNG? I got my most insightful answer yet from of one of Mater Primary School’s eighth graders last week. A recent writing prompt from his Panango teachers, Erica and Olivia, asked, “What do you see in the future?” to which their top student Constantiin (pronounced like the Emperor) wrote the following grim reply (Forgive the grammar errors; I left them in for authenticity):

I see everyone live in the expensive houses, eat only food produces by factories. There is no more PMV’s [public motor vehicles) to transport goods. Our village is changing, each and everyone of us know how to drive. All our forest was cut down, huge factories, towns, and buildings was build there. Also the air is polluted and small children find it difficult to breath[e]. Our traditions was taken away by white people and our country’s features is completely change. Population increase and we [have a] shortage of land. The tribal [wars] takes place, people die, and the fight will keep going.

This dire forecast isn’t what has to be, but sadly a likely prediction. Riding in the back on the PMV into Madang Friday, I took in the state of the town renowned as one of the most beautiful places in the country. Its palm-studded coastline remains idyllic and plumeria still blooms in the trees around the market, yet the steadily crowding roadsides are littered with rubbish and the blood-red sediment of buai (betel nut) spit, the ponds have begun to pool with septic scum from runoff and I believe improperly drained toilets, trash is heaped in the back of a children’s playground, and brightly-painted but corroding warehouses line the pavement where trees undoubtedly once stood. My hosts here visit the market for fresh veg brought hours from the highlands and the grocery stores to buy white bread, sugar, and fatty canned meat that surely must contribute to high incidence of middle-aged heart attacks. Yes, I appreciate the running tap in the kitchen and the ability to buy cheese at the grocery to top a pizza for my hosts—and of course, the wireless internet at Divine Word—but I’ve realized I wouldn’t want to trade Karkar’s greenery for town’s amenities. I’m already missing my garden kumu (greens).

After explaining the American system of food production and consumption to one of my many Karkar “mama’s” last summer, she astutely replied, “Money is your garden.” Unfortunately, some day that may be true for Karkar too. But as much as I worry about the negative physical repercussions of industry and urbanization, I am also aware of positive changes, like an increased value on education, that living in town brings.

“Development must start in the mind,” Christine told me. And I don’t have to look further than Constantiin’s essay to see that that is already happening.

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