A pen picture of Ives (George) Pereira
When Benny
DeSouza, my friend in the Uk, asked me to submit to him a
write-up about my background, I was humbled by the request. Benny cautioned me that brevity was important
and this further set the alarm bells ringing.
For several
years now I have been writing my autobiography and with a seven hundred page
document on my life tucked in the memory of my computer, I found that it was
going to be quite a task to condense it into a few lines. But here it is.
I was born
in Zanzibar. My mother Louisa and my
sisters, Irene and Yvonne were teachers at St. Joseph’s Convent School. I have two brothers Ignatius and Maurice. My brother Eustace who was closest to me,
passed away a few years ago. He features
in a few of my stories and it goes without saying that I miss him a whole lot.
My sister Yvonne was married to Wolfango Dourado who sadly passed away on March
19, 2012. My sister Irene, a retired School Teacher, lives in Goa,
India.
I worked
for Cable and Wireless Ltd. In Zanzibar for eleven years. I was trained as a Radio Operator by Benny’s
father Mr. Alex DeSouza who was the nicest man that anybody could ever meet. He
was also a great teacher. I quit from
Cable and Wireless after eleven years of service in order to pursue my dream of
becoming a teacher like my mother and my wife.
I entered St. Xavier’s College in Mumbai (formerly Bombay) and did an
Honours Degree in English Literature. I
then read and trained for a Bachelor’s Degree in Education at St. Xavier’s
Institute of Education.
Since Zanzibar was in political ferment when I
completed my University work in Mumbai, I went to Uganda where my wife and
children sought some semblance of security.
I taught in Masaka, Uganda for two years and went into another
revolution where we were witness to a whole lot of unwanted killings. We then migrated to Canada in 1967 where I
was appointed Principal of Allen and Bigwood Public School. While in Canada I read for another Honours
Degree in Geography at Laurentian University and obtained various
qualifications from York University, University of Toronto and Queen’s
University. I was a typical example of
life-long learning and still think that I know so very little.
My wife
Margaret who is also a teacher and I retired in 1995.
In 1982 we accepted an appointment by the Federal Government
of Canada to teach teachers in Papua New Guinea. (Please read the story attached below)
These are
the bare bones of our lives, but there were times when we lived tumultuous
lives as do most immigrants, and this will be reflected in some of the stories
that you are invited to read.
WELCOME TO
MY READERSHIP.
GEORGE
(IVES) PEREIRA
Family Photographs
I married Margaret Devine. We have two children Ingrid and Neil. We are proud grandparents. My daughter Ingrid did her Masters in Social Work and her son Neil Angelo is a qualified paramedic. My son Neil , who is a chartered Accountant, has two children Amanda and Austin who are at McMaster University studying to become doctors.
Click on the Yellow link below.
Click on Family Photo Album
Click on the Yellow link below.
Click on Family Photo Album
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
INTO THE LAND OF THE HEAD HUNTERS
By Ives (George) Pereira
As I was
nearing fifty, there came upon me an uneasiness that gave rise to a
multiplicity of emotions that somehow I could not explain. I put this down to male menopause, a simplistic
way of explaining it away.
This could
not go on forever. One day, however, I
thought that I hit on the best solution to my problems. I thought that I would take leave of absence
from my teaching responsibilities in Ontario
for a few years. Teaching in a foreign
country might just shake me out of the doldrums. I was aware that the University of Toronto
housed an organization called C.U.S.O. (Canadian University Service
Overseas). My wife Margaret and I had a
tête-à-tête about this course of action and fortunately Margaret (my better
half in more ways than one) thought that it might be a good idea if it was
going to make me feel better about myself and perhaps return me to some form of
sanity.
The
Canadian University Service Overseas organization was very happy to receive my
call and declared that it had not hitherto had applicants with our
qualifications and experience and that it would not be very difficult to have
us placed. Two days later, CUSO came up
with an offer of jobs in West Africa . I explained to them that I was from Africa myself but that I would prefer to be placed in
another culture world. Within a month
they got back to me asking whether we might consider going to Papua New Guinea . I told them that I would have to do some research
on the proposed destination and that I would get back to them within a
week.
We learned that the people of Papua New Guinea
were Melanesians. They were short in
stature and had long heads, large noses and kinky hair. There were about a hundred different tribes,
and each tribe (a tribe could be ten or fewer than ten people) spoke a
distinctly different language. The most
common language spoken by most Papuans was “Pidgin”. It was the cement that kept the diverse
cultural groups together.
It was
believed that there still were tribes that had not yet been discovered deep in
the rain forest that covered most of Papua New Guinea . The Papuans shared a border with Irian Jaya
but this border was the source of constant political and military strife. Papua New Guinea was divided into
provinces. About the most developed part
were the Highlands.
But this
was not the place where help was most needed. Foreign help was diverted into less developed
provinces and that made a whole lot of sense.
Unfortunately, these were areas where there was scarcity of a whole lot
of things. Specialized medical care was not easily available and one had to
travel hundreds of kilometers if there was need for it. Furthermore, the roads were mere dirt roads
and the rains were known to wash out sections of the road making passage nigh
impossible. There were places where one
had to drive through “wadis” (shallow streams) to get to the other side. If there was a heavy rain miles up the wadi, it
became a torrential river and far too impassable because of the depth and strong
current. The driver of the vehicle had to sometimes wait for hours until the
water receded before crossing over. Our
posting was to be in the East
Sepik Province .
We did not
know this until one fine day I received a call from an officer in the Federal Government
in Ottawa. I was informed that our files
were transferred to Ottawa
by CUSO since there was a Government to Government request that Canada send
twenty of its best qualified teachers as contract officers to do some Teacher
Training in the field.
I found
this quite amusing since CUSO never received my approval to transfer my file to
Ottawa . However, the Federal Government officer
cleared this for me by stressing that the Federal Government gave CUSO special
funding to run its operation. As a result
they worked with each other to assist Developing Countries in getting the best
assistance that was possible.
Furthermore, I was informed that since the Federal Government was now in
charge of my file, I would be paid well for my service and contributions to Papua New Guinea . I did explain that the reason I was going
to help in development was not for financial reasons but primarily because I
felt that I would like to give back to a developing country what I myself had
received from a developing country. My
intentions were purely altruistic. The
gentleman advised me that if I did not want the large salary that I was being
offered, that I could, if I wished, offer scholarships to students in Papua New
Guinea . I thought that this was a great idea.
It wasn’t
difficult to get three years leave of absence from the Peel Board of
Education. At that time, there was a
surplus of teachers on the market and consequently it was not going to be
difficult to find a replacement for me or for my wife who was also a teacher
with Dufferin and Peel Catholic Separate School Board. As we had predicted both the School boards
were happy to grant us the leave that we requested. It would also go well on their resume. We
were now ready to make our move.
There were
a few things that we had to settle before we left. We thought it best to sell our house, rather
than keep it locked without any supervision.
We knew that when we returned from our trip, we could always buy another
house. Within a couple of months, the house
was sold to Melad and Georgette Shoufany, new immigrants from Israel and who
were destined to be our closest friends after we returned from our overseas
assignment.
Before we
left, we were to attend a three-day seminar on what to expect in Papua New Guinea . Three native Papuans were flown over to
inform us about the culture that we were going
to engage, and how to behave and interact with the natives. It was a very informative meeting, but
nothing really prepares one for what to expect until one is actually in the
field.
The first
leg of our journey was to Vancouver . Here we changed planes for Hawaii .
It was a long long flight to the beautiful island of Hawaii . We were given a two-day respite in Wikiki and
then we continued our journey to Port Morsby in Papua New Guinea . We were put up in a hotel called “The
Outrigger Hotel’. We stopped over for a
couple of days and were then taken to the airport for our journey deep into the
forests of Papua New Guinea
to a place called Wewak in the East
Sepik Province . Once we got to Wewak, we would be met by the
Principal of the School who would arrange for our onward journey to Maprik which
was to be our final destination.
When we got
to Wewak, we deplaned and sat waiting for the School Principal. We could not help noticing a short bearded
gentleman dressed like an arrogant colonial officer, complete with a
distinctive moustache march up and down past us several times apparently
expecting someone to deplane. In a short
time, we were the last people left at the airport, and so was this white
colonial officer. Finally, he walked up
to us and asked us if we were the Pereiras . You can well imagine our relief. He introduced himself as the Principal of
Maprik Secondary School. He did not
offer us any excuse for not approaching us earlier but we found out later that
he was expecting a white couple from Canada . We also learned that we were to go over to
the house of the Superintendent of Education for tea, but since we were not
what he thought the superintendent was expecting either, he decided to drive us
to Maprik right away. This was our first
taste of Australian prejudices that we were to experience more vividly when we
got to our posting.
The journey
took us five hours and by the time we got to our accommodation it was quite
dark. Loud music blared from speakers with Ann Murray (our Canadian “snowbird”)
singing her heart out. This was the
students’ way of welcoming Canadians to their habitat. Shortly thereafter the music came to an
abrupt end, and darkness descended on the campus. It was one of the hiccups of
the Electricity Board with its very poor service to the hinterland.
The house was perched up on steel posts about
ten feet above the ground. There was no
electricity when we entered our house. On entering, we got a very strong smell of
mildew everywhere. We lit a candle and
walked to the bedroom. The mattress was
all mouldy. The bathroom and the walls were threateningly
black and mouldy too. Here was I in an
environment that I was mortally allergic to.
Between the roof and the living area there was a false ceiling. We could hear, what appeared to be, hundreds
of little feet run up and down above the ceiling. We soon learned that they were large mice
that took charge of the house when left vacant for a few months. Both Margaret and I looked at each other but
knew that we were going to have a sleepless night in addition to the many that
we had on our long and tedious journey to Maprik. We could not possibly sleep on the mattress
so we placed on the floor a bed sheet that we had brought along with us. We made a makeshift pillow out of some of our
clothes, kicked off our shoes, and tried to get some sleep. The noise in the ceiling kept getting louder
and this was punctuated by screeches as though the mice were having an argument
over us. As we slept on the floor, a
mouse ran over my face. For the first
time I realized how cold the feet of mice were.
We gave up sleeping as an illusion under these conditions, so we sat up
and talked about the comfort of home in Canada . We were also very angry and disappointed
that the Principal would not have had the common decency of getting someone to
clean the place and airing it a bit before our arrival. It immediately told us a whole lot about the
sensitivity, or lack of it, of this man who should have known better. Privately, I had pangs of conscience that I
would subject someone I loved, my wife, to the indignities that I was putting
her through. Typical of her character,
she did not complain and merely said that the following day we could iron out
some of our difficulties.
The
following morning, we got dressed and walked to the School. Maprik
Secondary School was a
co-ed school. The students were housed
in buildings that had long corridors. On
both sides of these corridors were beds for the students. If they were required to do their homework,
they could use any one of the classrooms.
Girls lived in hostels separate from the boys. A teacher was assigned a hostel and placed in
charge of the students therein. Each
morning, the teacher was to get up early and wake up the students. He was to make sure that the students made up
their beds, and hung their towels to air on a line outside the building. Nothing smells more disgusting in a humid climate
than a wet towel that is placed in a corner somewhere. Invariably, the teacher would find a student
who was ill and some of them quite ill.
The usual problem was Malaria.
This was an avoidable disease, but the government did not provide the
school with funds to buy anti-malarial tablets.
The usual measures available to the teacher was to go to the infirmary
and get two cloroquin tablets, two aspirin tablets and make sure that the
student swallowed them all in one gulp.
This would make the students sweat profusely but also weaken them
considerably. However, the body
temperature would soon come down. After
six hours, the patient was given another dose of cloroquin. Two days later, the student had to attend
school no matter how weakened he/she had become. This was the Principal’s way
of teaching the students self-reliance!!!!
We
approached the Princpial, and complained in the most restrained fashion about
the condition of our accommodation. We
were given two senior students to wipe down the walls and floors and anything
that was attacked by mildew with bleach. How amazing! The almost black walls turned mysteriously
into white walls. Once we were
satisfied that we had beaten the mildew we made a list of things that we
needed. First of all, there was no way
that we were going to use a totally stained and stinking mattress. We needed a replacement. We had no pillows. We added that to our list. We asked the very cooperative students how we
were going to get rid of the mice in the ceiling. They assured us that since the house was now
being lived in, the mice would find another place to do their thing. We hoped that they were right. We had a refrigerator but without electricity
that was very erratic at best, it was a white elephant. There was a large water tank outside that
held a few hundred gallons of run off rain water from the roof and that was to
be our only source of water for drinking and other purposes.
The tap to
the tank had to be locked to prevent pirates from stealing water in the dead of
night. Water had to be carried in pails up two flights of stairs when it was
needed.
When we
assumed our jobs at Maprik
Secondary School ,
Margaret, who was also hired as a teacher by the Federal Government, was given
charge of the Domestic Science program.
Her classroom was equipped with modern stoves and refrigerators but they
were white elephants for two reasons.
Most of the students would be returning to villages where there was no
electricity and where conditions were mildly primitive. She soon decided that the students were going
to cook exactly the way they would in their own villages. Three rocks were
placed in a circle to accommodate the pans.
In the center a fire was started using firewood. The students did not have to be taught these basic
skills, and they now discovered that they were in the hands of a practical
teacher who understood and supported their culture. Margaret soon learned to talk with the
students in pidgin when not in class, and this endeared her to her students.
I was given
the responsibility of teaching the senior students. As a Senior Subject Supervisor, I was also
required to monitor the teaching that went on in the other English classes and
to report on the effectiveness of the teaching methods being employed. I was able to go through the records that
were kept by the previous Supervisor and the records were an eye opener to
me. The reports were more of a scathing
critic on all the negatives that were observed in the particular lesson offered
by a teacher. There was no encouragement
offered on the positive aspect of the lessons.
If I were the teacher under inspection, I would probably have quit my
job after receiving the first report. I
thought that I would adopt a more conciliatory and positive approach so that
the teacher concerned would be encouraged to improve his effectiveness in the
classroom. I also felt that my own
effectiveness in the class was of paramount importance. Getting students to interact with each other
in the classroom was a novel experience to my students. They were used to being lectured to, and were
groomed to look at the teacher intelligently while he “taught” his lesson. I soon discovered that the only way that
these students thought that they were learning is when the teacher made intelligent
sounds in front of the classroom. I
therefore had to bring my methodology in line with what the students felt was
the only way of learning effectively and to gradually introduce interactive
learning which, it would seem, made learning more permanent.. But I realized that this would take
time. It was like attempting to change a
culture.
I was
inspected by the Superintendent within a month of my arrival, and I must admit
that the lesson was a disaster. The
students were very passive and did not or “were not” able to answer questions
put to them on the content that was taught.
It was quite a humiliating experience since it reflected badly on my
position as Senior Subject Supervisor placed in charge of making teachers at
the School more effective. How could
this possibly happen
if I just
proved that I was not effective myself?
I made an attempt to explain to the Superintendent that I was still
feeling my way and that before long, I would hit a happy medium to the
satisfaction of all concerned. I am not
sure that the Superintendent went away convinced about this.
When we
arrived in Maprik, the expatriate Australian community invited us to spend an
evening at the home of an Australian couple that was in Papua New Guinea
for quite a few years. Their home also
posed as a Club for other Australians where they could meet and drink. We were asked to bring our own beers, which
we did. When we got there, the first bit
of entertainment for our benefit was the showing of a movie that was obviously shot in Northern India .
The title of the movie was Little Churchill. It took you back to the time when the
British were taking control of India
and it was nothing more than a continuous war of the British against any
opposition in India . Indians were being shot and brutalized by the
British soldiers and this was met with much jubilation by the Australians
present. Needless to say, we were very
humiliated by this movie, and to show them
our disgust, we pleasantly excused ourselves when the lights came on and went
home. We got a distinct impression that
we were invited to the party to suffer some kind of humiliation and we vowed
that it was going to be the last time that we ever socialized with the
Australians. When the Australians got
together it was generally for the insidious purpose of tearing down reputations
and talking about the Papuans as though they were a sub-human specie. We found this to be very revolting.
After
independence, most of the Australians moved back to the homeland. However, at this time there was terrible
intolerance against homosexuals raising its monstrous head in the major cities
of Australia . It became so bad that many homosexuals
decided to move to some other land. Papua New Guinea
became the country of choice. This was
for two reasons. They could maintain
their lifestyles without anybody bothering them, and since most of them were
professionals such as teachers, doctors, and superintendents of Schools, Papua
New Guinea became a beneficiary fo their much needed skills in education.. Furthermore, the Papua Government was badly
in need of these professionals so they were given additional incentives of a
free house and a very attractive salary.
What more could they ask for?!.
We were
fortunate to befriend a gentleman from New Zealand who was married to a
girl from Hawaii . The two of them, Bill and Corrine were
instructors at the Agricultural
College a few miles from
our School. Australians ostracized Bill
because he was from New Zealand
but moreso because he was married to a non-white. As a result, Bill and Corrine gravitated
towards us, and we were very happy to have them as friends.
Bill owned
his own car. It was a four-wheel drive
Suziki that was ideal for the rough roads of Papua New Guinea . One Saturday, we decided to go for a
picnic. We took along our snacks and
beers and drove until we came to a clearing in the forest. We thought that it might be an ideal place to
sit down and chat. While we were
exchanging jokes, Bill turned to me and said:
“What if I
told you that right now we were being watched by a few thousand people?”
“I don’t
see anybody here. Whatever made you say
that?” I replied.
“OK Ives, I
want you to look past my shoulder.
Concentrate on one spot in the trees behind me.”
I did as he
said, and to my consternation, I noticed hundreds of heads peeping out from the
trees. I was petrified and suggested
that we jump into the car and take off for dear life.
“Don’t
worry, Ives. They are harmless. They are curious and just want to know what
these strangers were doing in their territory.” said Bill.
Both
Corrine and Margaret became very nervous in spite of Bill’s reassurance so we
decided that we would move somewhere else.
“The moral
of the story,” said Bill as we drove away, “is that there no such thing as
privacy in a place like Papua
New Guinea .”
It is an experience that we did not forget easily and a warning that we
took quite seriously.
The local
market was held just outside our School once a week. It was here that we bought our vegetables and
fruit. Most of the vendors were
suffering from all kinds of skin diseases such as grille. We were very traumatized by this in the
beginning and generally bought our vegetables from someone who did not exhibit
such diseases. However, after some time
we overlooked the problem but made sure that the vegetables were washed and
cooked well. On one occasion, I saw a
vendor with a bowl of white worms, each one as big as one’s middle finger. I was quite curious and asked the vendor what
she did with those. She looked at me
questioningly and declared that it was a food and that everybody ate those
worms. In fact she assured me that they
could be eaten live or cooked depending on one’s preferences. This made my insides constrict a bit, and I
seriously thought that she was putting me on.
Sister Maura, a nun from Australia
and a teacher at the School confirmed that those “Sago Worms” were a delicacy
and that they ate them every morning for breakfast. When fried, they resembled sausages that she
was sure we were familiar with in Canada . Sago was obtained from a palm. It was beaten down into a pulp, dried and
converted into flour. It was used by the
Papuans to make bread and other delicacies.
What was left behind in the utensils was attacked by these worms, and
when they were fat and juicy enough, they were collected and eaten. I heard of people eating raw oysters that was
something I did not fancy either…..but eating Sago Worms seemed to me to be quite
revolting at that time.
If one
asked the Papuans how they cooked their meals, the pat answer was that they
boiled it and ate it. They did this with
their meats, vegetables, and any other food types. Food was never marinated with spices or
salt. Perhaps their way was a healthy
way of eating. Margaret had taken a
whole lot of Indian spices intended of course for our own use. One day she hit on the idea that she would
invite all the teachers’ wives on campus to a cooking session where she thought
she would introduce them to food cooked with spices. It was an attempt at
cross-cultural education starting with the adults in the community. There was much excitement on campus and the
attendance on that Saturday was electrical.
Margaret had bought a couple of chickens and demonstrated how the
chicken could be cut. She then described
each of the spices that went into a curried chicken recipe. The wives were all eyes and ears. Finally, the dish was ready and she invited
the wives to partake. To our
consternation, none of the wives liked what was before them. They obviously felt that this was an
abomination of two good chickens that were best boiled and eaten. I need hardly say that Margaret was quite
mortified and disheartened by the experience, but we had learned one important
lesson and that was that culture is a strange thing. We were partly happy about gaining these
insights into Papuan tastes for shortly after we were privileged to have been
invited to the home of a Papua New Guinea School Principal. When we got there, there was perhaps a whole
tribe present. For dinner we were going
to have a “Lua” (it sounded like that anyway).
It much resembled the Lua that they have in Hawaii .
Basically what they do is dig a pit and place banana leaves flat at the
bottom. Then they put everything under
the sun over the banana leaves. You had
vegetables, potatoes, sweet potatoes, caw-caw, bandicoots (field mice…no
kidding!), chicken, pork and you-name-it.
The food was then covered over with banana leaves. Over this was placed firewood that was lit
and the food beneath it began to bake away.
In about an hour, the food was declared to be ready to eat and everyone was
called to dinner. When the banana
leaves were cleared away, what emerged was a smell that might have had the
effect of clearing all mosquitoes away.
The smell was simply revolting to us.
However, the look on the faces of the Papuans was one of euphoria. They tucked into the food as though there
were no tomorrow. Since we did not want
to offend our hosts, both Margaret and I approached the pit holding our breath
and went through the motion of taking a couple of potatoes in order to please
our hosts. When we got back to our
seats, we thanked the Lord that dinner was being served outside. We were seated next to a bush, and since no
one was looking our way we carefully rid our plates of the potatoes. We were totally ashamed about doing what we
did, but we were not prepared to go at it and be seen barfing all over the
place.
Strange
experiences were a way of life for us.
Bill and Corrine had a neighbor who was affectionately named fearless
John. John loved snakes. We were mortally scared of them. John was known to stop his motorbike on the
dirt road that he was traveling along whenever he spotted a snake. He would catch hold of the snake( usually a
python) by its head, allow it to wind itself around his body and then proceed
to take the snake on his bike to his apartment.
There he would let it creep where ever it wanted to go. He would keep the snake for a few days until
he noticed that it was getting nervous (perhaps hungry) and then let it free in
the bush just next to his house. We
actually say a ten-foot python in his apartment one time. Needless to say, we never accepted any
invitation to visit him even if a cold beer was most inviting proposition in
the hot and humid climate of the country for we could never be sure what kind
of vermin was boarding with him.
In Papua New Guinea ,
law and order is preserved very much like the code of Hamurabi in ancient Iraq , though I
am quick to assure you that very few villagers ever heard the name. It was an eye for an eye and a tooth for a
tooth. To a Westerner, it might appear
quite primitive, but it seemed to work in PNG .
(Papua New Guinea ) If a woman from tribe A was raped by someone
from Tribe B, a woman from tribe B had to be raped. It was the same with murder or any other
crime. Though the constitution of the
land laid down laws governing the treatment of criminals these laws were
totally ignored by the tribes. Tribal
law was supreme and the police force did very little to discourage tribes
taking the law in their own hands.
Closely related to this phenomena is an incident that I am about to
relate. One of our teachers, a Papuan
from another part of the country, got friendly with a girl from a tribal group
not far away from the School. That was
fine and dandy. However, tribal law
mandated that if a girl was made pregnant the boy had to marry the girl. Of course there was no way that this teacher
wanted to marry the girl. One morning
the entire male population of the tribe, dressed as warriors, marched towards
the School in a war chant, to take the teacher by force into what can only be
described as a shotgun marriage. Things
looked very serious, and the school principal had to negotiate with the chief
about handing over the teacher who incidentally got tipped off and went into
hiding. The Chief and the Principal came
to some sort of agreement and the tribe marched back to their tribal land. The following morning, the offending teacher
was flown out of Maprik, and the incident was soon forgotten. It was rumored that if the teacher was ever
found, he would be put to death by stoning.
What a way to go!
Another
warning to drivers in PNG is that if they were driving and by accident hit a
Papuan on the road and even if they were at fault they were to drive away as
quickly as possible. It was not uncommon
that drivers in an accident were lynched and killed.
Roads in Papua New Guinea ,
particularly in the Province of the East Sepik
were dirt roads at best. Payday was not
for sane drivers. One kept off the roads
during that time. Papuans loved to
drink, and many of them would drink heavily and drive. As a result the death toll around payday rose
by leaps and bounds. The emergency
department at the ill- equipped hospitals around the Province were full to
capacity with accident victims, with serious wounds and broken limbs. A large number of the injured Papuans sustained
serious wounds from fights precipitated by drunkenness.
On the
professional front, I noticed that the teachers were at a considerable
disadvantage since much of the teaching had to be done in the classroom through
talking and chalking. This was very time consuming, but in the
absence of electricity and the hardware that makes teaching so much easier in
the West, one had to become very creative in ones teaching methodology. Here, I’ve got to confess, I learnt more from
my Papuan counterparts than I had to offer.
In addition to this, it was my job to monitor what went on in other
classes. On our English Staff we had a
teacher from England . Jim Black (name changed) was his name. As an Englishman, he could draw the wool over
anyone’s eyes because he could articulate the language in a coherent way and
masked by a strong English accent which I thought was sometimes overdone. However, his writing skills were
non-existent. I learnt this when he
approached me to look over a letter written by him to the Ministry of Education
in Port Moresby . While scanning through his letter I was
shocked to discover that every second word was a spelling mistake, and the
sentences employed were either sentence fragments or run-on sentences or no
sentences at all. I passed the letter
back to him and assured him that all was ok and that he should mail the letter
as is. If anything, it would be an eye
opener to the Ministry of Education as to what kind of teachers they were recruiting.
On the face of it, this might sound very
insensitive on my part but in Papua
New Guinea at that time, as a man of colour,
it would have been considered arrogant on my part to show up any white
professional’s inadequacies, and it would invite the wrath of the
administration. Of course, I felt that the English Department
needed some reshuffling since Jim Black was given senior classes where, I was
sure, the students had a better grasp of the written word than did their
teacher. This was important since the
students were to face a Government examination on which depended whether the
students would go to University or not. As you can imagine the situation was to
be handled very diplomatically since the Principal was a white man and I was
sure that he was not about to do anything drastic to his white counterpart.
During our
stay at Maprik, we had the good fortune of meeting with a young twenty-five
year old Australian called Walter. He
was young and single and was doing some contracting work in Maprik at the time
that we met him. Walter spent much of his time with us, and had a free run of
our house. He had a girlfriend in Australia who
he hoped to marry as
soon as he had made a whole lot of money.
He would phone her every day and it was clear to see that both of them
missed each other a whole lot. Walter
was also a very sensitive human being.
One day I said in passing that it would be nice to have the inside of
the house given a fresh coat of paint.
Everything in Maprik was in short supply and paint would have to be
bought in Wewak. Much to our surprise,
Walter sneaked into the house when we were at school, and single handedly
painted the entire place. When we got
home, we were absolutely surprised and were willing to pay Walter anything that he might
ask for the service. Walter would not
hear about it. It was his contribution
to the kindness that he was receiving from us.
In addition to this he held out two brand new Seiko Wrist Watches and
asked me to choose any one. He made me a
gift of an expensive watch used by divers, a watch that I still use almost
twenty-five years later. Walter was also
great with cars. I bought myself a
second hand Suzuki and he would make sure that it was always in top condition
for driving. I always admired Walter’s
ability to put his hand to any chore and to make a success of what he was
doing. Unfortunately, Walter’s
girlfriend was getting rather impatient for having to wait for his return to Australia and
issued him with an ultimatum that if he did not return in a week’s time, she
would be terminating the relationship. I
remember the mental turmoil that Walter went through and although he turned to
us for advice, we had to throw the onus on him to make a decision. He finally decided that he would return to Australia . We never did hear from Walter again, and over
the years we wondered what had became of him.
After a
year or so in PNG , I found myself
despising the Principal. There were
several reasons for this. His treatment
of the students was that of a tyrant. On
one occasion, one of the students from my hostel came down with Malaria. I naturally headed for the infirmary only to
find it locked. It was believed that
someone had absconded with a pair of scissors and the Principal declared that
nobody would enter the infirmary until the scissors was returned. I thought that this treatment was rudely
Draconian. In other words because one of
the students had stolen the pair of scissors, ( and this was yet to be proven)
all the students had to suffer. I was
beside myself when I heard this. I
walked across to the Principal’s office and demanded that he give me the keys
and if he did not, I was going to break down the door to the infirmary. Of course, the Principal handed the keys to
me immediately but said that he would have me reported to the Federal
Government. I got hold of the medication
that the sick student required and then returned the key to him. On another occasion, the students were
summoned to an assembly. Apparently a
student had thrown a rock at one of the louver windows to attract the attention
of one of the girls. In so doing, he
broke the glass. The Principal stood in front of the students at an assembly
and shouted quite angrily:
“One of you
BASTARDS threw a stone at the window in the girls’ dormitory and broke a
pane. I would like for that BASTARD to
own up or there are going to be serious consequences.”
When I
heard this, I swung around and asked Sr. Maura who was standing next to me
whether I had heard right. Her response
was:
“Isn’t that
a shame?”
After the
assembly I asked the Principal whether I could see him in his office.
“I was
pretty shocked at the language that you used today.” I cautioned him. “We are
supposed to be an example to the students, but you obviously overstepped your
authority.. I just want you to know one
thing. If I ever hear you abuse the
students as you did today, I will have you reported to the Federal Government
immediately.”
I naturally
became enemy number one as far as he was concerned. He then embarked on a systematic harassment
and sabotage of everything that I was attempting to do, and even disconnected
the telephone that was our only lifeline to the outside world. As a result we
could not contact our children in Canada . After a year, Margaret and I decided that it might be in
our interest to return to Canada . We had not quite made up our minds when I was
struck by a virus that made walking or even sitting up a very difficult and
painful
task. The doctor in Wewak told me that it might be
best for me to go to Australia
for treatment. We decided that if that
was the case, we might just as well go right back to Canada . We informed the Federal Government about our
departure giving bad health as the reason, and so we flew to Australia
knowing full well that we were not going to return to Papua New Guinea .
We flew to Melbourne where we were
met by friends from our Africa days. After a week or so, we decided to fly
home. I was in a wheel-chair all the way
to Toronto with memories of our experiences in Papua New Guinea which were
bitter-sweet but which led to a greater appreciation of the wonderful country that
we were returning to.
What is
more pertinent is that on my return to Canada, none of the uneasiness that
caused me such unhappiness before my departure to Papua New Guinea was present. I guess that was what I really needed ,,,,,,,,a
dose of reality.
I certainly got it the hard way!!!
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Hello
Aspi:
Many thanks for your encouraging remarks. I appreciate them. I do believe that
what most enthusiasts like about my stories is their honesty. Now read "From
landed immigrant to retirement."
George
From: "aspidastur@..." <aspidastur@...>
Thanks George.
George your write-up in your blog about your experiences in Papua New Guinea was
simply fascinating. It was enlightening and entertaining at so many levels. Thank
you for sharing your experiences in such a brilliant way. Keep it up. You have
single-handedly brought life and excitement to the SJCS forum. Just look at the
people responding to your mailings. You have been able to touch us all with your
life experiences in a way that has brought back memories in us that had been
pushed back into the far reaches of our mind.
The colonial racists you encountered in PNG were no different from the racist
Mzungoos we grew up with in Zanzibar. Admittedly, not all of them were that bad.
I can think of some who were very decent people and integrated very well with
the locals. Some who come to mind are Mr. and Mrs. Pasco (Principal Aga Khan
School), Mr. and Mrs. Barton (Health Dept.), Mr. Evans (teacher KG School). I am
sure there were more.
Your fishing experiences in Trinidad reminded me of the method of fishing
employed by some fishermen in Zanzibar. They would cast a huge net in an
inverted U form, and then two teams on shore, one at each end, would pull the
net in loaded with fish. The fish were then loaded in baskets and taken to
market. Often times if we noticed them fishing near our house, we would
intercept them and buy some of the fish. You could not get any fresher fish. In
fact, some Bohris, who only ate fish they had seen alive, would often be seen
patrolling the shore for fish to buy. Interestingly, what is considered fresh
fish in this country is fish that is put on ice on fishing boats. Imagine.
Many thanks for your encouraging remarks. I appreciate them. I do believe that
what most enthusiasts like about my stories is their honesty. Now read "From
landed immigrant to retirement."
George
From: "aspidastur@..." <aspidastur@...>
Thanks George.
George your write-up in your blog about your experiences in Papua New Guinea was
simply fascinating. It was enlightening and entertaining at so many levels. Thank
you for sharing your experiences in such a brilliant way. Keep it up. You have
single-handedly brought life and excitement to the SJCS forum. Just look at the
people responding to your mailings. You have been able to touch us all with your
life experiences in a way that has brought back memories in us that had been
pushed back into the far reaches of our mind.
The colonial racists you encountered in PNG were no different from the racist
Mzungoos we grew up with in Zanzibar. Admittedly, not all of them were that bad.
I can think of some who were very decent people and integrated very well with
the locals. Some who come to mind are Mr. and Mrs. Pasco (Principal Aga Khan
School), Mr. and Mrs. Barton (Health Dept.), Mr. Evans (teacher KG School). I am
sure there were more.
Your fishing experiences in Trinidad reminded me of the method of fishing
employed by some fishermen in Zanzibar. They would cast a huge net in an
inverted U form, and then two teams on shore, one at each end, would pull the
net in loaded with fish. The fish were then loaded in baskets and taken to
market. Often times if we noticed them fishing near our house, we would
intercept them and buy some of the fish. You could not get any fresher fish. In
fact, some Bohris, who only ate fish they had seen alive, would often be seen
patrolling the shore for fish to buy. Interestingly, what is considered fresh
fish in this country is fish that is put on ice on fishing boats. Imagine.
= = = = = = = = = = = =
I have also added a "TABLE OF CONTENTS" where you can select any of the published stories by just one click on any of the titles below.
As it is always difficult to find links of interest on your PC or Laptop, and hard to remember the Link addresses. It is recommended you save useful links to your FAVOURITES List.
To make it easy to remember where to find my stories, I have a new page titled ClickGeorgePereira or on the link below
Best Regards
Ives (George) Pereira
Ex Zanzibar
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CLICK ON ANY OF THE TITLES BELOW TO VIEW STORY.
CLICK ON ANY OF THE TITLES BELOW TO VIEW STORY.
ZANZIBAR STORIES
CANADA STORIES
GOA STORIES
See What's New Link above for future updates which will have a date stamp.
Regards George