I'm Going to Rabaul

Life in Port Moresby is a bit of a ritual. There is not much to do. No TV, but there are three Picture Theatres in Port Moresby, and a Drive-In.

Most Evenings, after eating at Watkins’ Mess, Willie and I sit in one of the rooms at Barlows’ Mess and drink a few beers while reminiscing of our previous lives in Switzerland.  Working in such intense heat all day means drinking beer doesn’t affect you as much.

Friday nights we all go to the Drive-In Theatre near Racecourse Road and have dinner there, then we sit on top of the bonnet or on camping chairs in front and enjoy the movies.

The two Willies at the Ela Beach RSL

Sunday mornings, we drive down to Ela Beach to the RSL and have a few beers and a counter lunch in the Beer Garden, which is facing the beach. 

Carrier Air Conditioning have the service contract with the Australian Federal Government looking after all the installations of Public Buildings in the whole of the Territory of Papua and New Guinea. It is a quarterly contract and it needs an electrician and a refrigeration mechanic to travel to each site and do a routine maintenance service.

Dave asks me if I would like to go to some of the places and Willie would go to the others. I am looking forward to see more of New Guinea so I agree. I am given an air ticket and am told to fly to Rabaul, where Ted Stuyvender a Carrier refrigeration mechanic would meet me. We would do the services in Rabaul and then fly to Wewak in the Sepik District to do the services there.

Ansett Fokker Friendship

The following Monday, Willie takes me to the airport and I board a Fokker Friendship plane to Rabaul, via Lae. It’s a four hour flight and Rabaul is beautiful. As we fly in, we circle over a volcano and we can see right into the crater. The lagoon is deep blue, there are lots of palm trees and quaint little native villages among the palm trees.

Ted greets me at the airport. He is a big bloke with a big black beard and a big gut and speaks with an American Accent. In the hire car on the way to town, I ask him where he is from.

'England, he says,

'England'?

'Yes', he insists.

He could have fooled me, he sounds very American not at all English. Well, maybe I’m wrong, maybe they do speak like him somewhere in England.

We drive under the palm trees to the heart of Rabaul. The CDW hostel is in the middle of town. Ted has already organised my room and gives me my key and shows me to my room. All the rooms look the same from the outside. They are small, but clean with a single bed and a cupboard as well as a small table and a couple of chairs. 

Harry has to be sorted out

          I finish the army project within a few days and ask Willie what I should do. He says, if you like, go to start the Medical College, and he drives me there.

        My old mate Harry is there with Freddy Henshaw who was in Mt Isa with me, singing opera, Harry instructs me they are running behind with the ductwork erection and needs me to help him hang up ductwork, before starting the electrical installation. He really is trying it on with me. I tell him no way, that I wasn’t sent up here by the company to install ductwork. I remind him, in case he doesn’t know that I’m holding the electrical license that keeps Carrier Air Conditioning’s Electrical Contractors’ License. I tell him, that If I go back to Brisbane, the company is in trouble and they would have to send another qualified electrician up from Brisbane. He storms out and into his ute swearing and carrying on.

Freddy laughs and tells me not to worry, 'He’s all hot air' he smiles. 'He's the only on who thinks he's second in charge'. But a few minutes later he returns with Dave Scott in tow. 'Now refuse', Harry shouts.

'Do you really want me to hang ductwork', I ask Dave Scott. 'Well, hmm, what you think', he asks me. I point out to Dave that I’m an electrician, I have no idea how to assemble and hang up ductwork and remind him as well that I hold the license that keeps the Contractors’ License for the company in New Guinea.

'Yeah, I suppose you’re right', he agrees. Harry is shaking with rage. He is cursing and swearing but I don’t understand a word of his Irish brogue.

I am finally able to start my own job which is wiring the air conditioning installation. It’s a large building and we’re there for some weeks, always having lunch at the top pub in Port Moresby.

The Chain Of Command

        Monday morning after breakfast at Bev’s, we drive to Carriers Office in Boroko. I meet Ann Tussle, the secretary in the outer office. Then Dave Stott, the Manager arrives in the office. Dave is a nice gentleman and asks me to take a seat in his office. He informs me that I would be answerable to the sheetmetal foreman Harry Browne and would be required to do everything Harry tells me to do.

      'I don’t think so', I say. Dave is taken aback, 'Why not?' he asks. 'I'm not taking orders from a sheetmetal worker', I stubbornly declare 'and in any case, Urs told me I’m answerable to him in Brisbane'.

      'Urs'! he explodes, 'what the hell has Urs got to do with the New Guinea operation'? 'He told me I’m to answer to him and nobody else' I insist. 'We’ll see about that', he says. 'For now I want you to go with Willie to the Papuan Medical College and start wiring the air conditioning there'.

      I’m confused. Who am I to obey. Urs, Dave Stott or this Harry Browne? Willie told me not to worry, just do as you wish, nobody takes any notice of either Harry or Dave, just do what you feel is right. I’m still confused.

      With that, Willie and I drive to the company store which is not at  the same place as the office, grab some materials and drive to the Army base, where we were the day before.

      Willie drops me off with the material, a set of plans and drives off. 'I’ll pick you up before lunch', he says and disappears through the camp.

      I start working out what is what and get started with the electrical installation. It is very hot and humid and within an hour I’m soaked to the skin in perspiration.

      Just before lunch the ute arrives as promised and we take off to Port Moresby for lunch. There we meet the other Carrier people including Harry Browne an Irishman, who asks me why I didn’t come to the Papuan Medical Centre as he had instructed Dave to tell me. I tell him I’m working at the Army Base. 'That’s not what I want you to do', he says.

     I can see a confrontation coming up but it has to be sorted. 'I’m not going to take orders from a sheetmetal worker'. I tell him, if he wants me to work with him, he'll need an electrical license. 'We’ll see about that', he says.

      I’m starting to feel bad for being obstinate but I feel very strongly about that but so does Harry with his Irish temperament. He insists he is Carrier’s foreman in New Guinea, second in charge to Dave Stott, the rest of the blokes around us burst out laughing and tell Harry to sit down and behave himself. He sits down and shuts up, but he is fuming.

      

A Swiss Tea Store in TPNG

We arrive at Barlow’s Flat. It’s a two bedroom flat, Carriers are renting for their unmarried workforce. It’s small, has two bedrooms and a common room which also has a bed, shower and WC, no cooking facilities. I get one bedroom, Willie lives in the other. I unpack my suitcase and find lots of Swiss Tea bags in the cupboard. All sorts of tea, including lots of herbal teas. 'Who owns these I ask?' 'I do' he answers, don’t worry you can have them if you like''.

A tea store in my cupboard

'Tell me about it', I say. 'Well', he explains, 'When I came to New Guinea, my mother (in Switzerland) wanted to know what I drink in this heat. I was too scared to tell her beer, so I said tea. So now she sends me tea every few weeks'.

The RSL club on Ela Beach is a great place. It’s situated right on the beach under lots of coconut trees and has a beer garden right under the trees. All patrons are white and we join the fellows we had met earlier at the Gateway Hotel. It seems drinking beer is the major past time in the Territory, but then again, it is very hot and humid.

By dinner time, we go back to the flat, have a shower and walk to the Watkins Mess across the narrow street from the flat. Willie explains that we eat all our meals there except during the week. Big Bev, the cook makes us sandwiches to take to work, but he adds that when we’re working in town, they usually go to the pub for a counter lunch. I’m going to like it up here.

     After dinner, we sit on the bed, and have a yarn about life in Papua New Guinea. I see a stuffed turtle under Willie’s bed poking it’s nose out and ask him where he got it. Oh, he says, When Urs Deutsch came up here, we went up to the Rona Pub for a drink, where a Native sold these things, we both bought one for ten bucks. So far for Urs walking through the jungle and shooting his turtle. I feel sorry for him, he keeps having his lies exposed.

       

I leave Australia for New Guinea

An Ansett-ANA T-Jet takes me to New Guinea

It’s been a while since I’ve been on an International flight and I board the Ansett plane with apprehension. I don’t know what awaits me in Papua New Guinea but I’ve come to Australia not knowing what to expect so I guess the feeling is similar. The flight is pleasant and when we land a few hours later and disembark at Port Moresby Airport, I find out what I can expect. The temperature is very high, in the mid 30’s and the humidity is very high as well.

It’s Saturday when I arrive and Willie Steiner, the other electrician and a Swiss compatriot from Basel meets me at the airport. We climb into his ute and drive 50 metres to the Gateway Hotel.

I need to pick up Mathew, he says, but first we have a beer. I don’t object, it’s so very hot and humid. We park the ute and walk up the stairs to the lounge bar. There are some more Carrier fellows there, mostly sheet metal workers and we have a few beers and a counter lunch, before Willie says it’s time to go. We go back to the ute. Willie whistles and  a small black man comes running along and jumps in the back. Hey, Matu, meet nu-pela boss-man, Willie says to the black man at the back. That's Mathew, one of our our boys, he says to me. Mathew just stares at me, says nothing.

You don’t mind if we just go and have a look at a job, Willie asks me. No, of course not, I reply. I suggest Mathew sit up front with us, I’m worried about him at the back. Don’t be silly, Willie says, the boys always travel at the back, they’re used to it.

We drive towards Boroko but head towards the Army Camp. There we’re greeted by an Australian soldier at the guard house who obviously know Willie because we drive straight through and the soldier just smiles and waves to us. We continue through the base until we come to an unfinished building.

Willie takes me into the unfinished plant room and tells me that’s where I’ll be working next week. It’s very hot and reminds me of Mt Isa.

Mathew is no longer on the ute. Willie calls his name, we wait for a while but Mathew is no longer here.

Don’t worry, Willie says, he’s gone walk about, he’ll find his own way back. With that we’re back in the ute, heading towards town.

Are we going to Port Moresby now? I ask, No, we’ll go to the flat and settle you in, then we go to the Boroko RSL for a few beers, he replies. That’s fine with me in this heat I think.

New Guinea Beckons

Urs mentions they need another electrician in New Guinea, one with a proper license. There is already a Swiss Electrician up in New Guinea, but he hasn’t got his full license yet so they need someone up there so they don’t lose their Contractors’ License. He wants me to go up there until they find someone permanent for three weeks and to help out on a few projects.

I think about it, Ben’s gone to Sydney, there is really nothing stopping me from going up there for three weeks, so I agree.

Urs informs me that although there is a Manager in New Guinea, I am not to take any notice of him, I’d still be answering to him in Brisbane. Ok with me, I say.

My TPNG Entry Permit

Carriers are organising me a Territorial Entry Permit and I get some shots for this and that, plus I buy a large bottle of Malaria Tablets and another of Salt Tablets apparently required if you live in New Guinea.

I finalise my affairs in Brisbane, store my stuff at Ray’s, cancel the flat, stop the electricity and have a last drink with people I know. My gay neighbour next door tells me I’ll be wearing white shorts and white shirts and long white socks with white shoes in New Guinea. We’ll see.

I say good-bye to Fred, Sue and Shelley and Ray and Zenya and the work mates at the workshop and leave Australia for three weeks.

My First Fishing Trip

Ray comes back from New Guinea and tells us a lot of stories about his experiences in the Territory, he’s been to a few places and we learn about his fights he got into in various pubs.

Urs tells me later, he was asked to leave New Guinea as he was getting into too many fights. I believe him, he goes to the pub every day and insists we go with him, but there he is argumentative and makes a lot of people upset. At home with Zenya he is different. We still have dinner together frequently and he is a different person during those times. It must be Zenya who keeps him calm.

Sue invites me on a boat trip. Another lady who lives in her block of flats, has a sugar daddy, an architect from Melbourne who owns a boat permanently moored at Jacob’s Well. He is coming up for a long weekend and has asked Sue and me to join them on a four day fishing trip amongst the islands off Jacobs Well. We leave on Friday and come back on Monday.

I talk to Brian about having Friday off. He is very understanding and tells me to take a ‘sickie’ on Friday. If Urs would ask, he would say I had called in sick. He is a great bloke for a non-drinker.

Friday, we drive down to Jacob’s Well. The four of us plus another chap from Melbourne. The boat looks great. It’s quite big and sleeps six people. We motor out amongst the islands and throw fishing lines in the water. It doesn’t take long before we catch a few decent fish and the girls prepare lunch consisting of cooked potatoes, salad and fresh fish. We drink a bottle of white wine with it. It beats working.

Jacobs Well

At dusk I feel itchy. I notice all these little bites on me everywhere. Sandflies I’m told. During the night I’m in agony. I scratch and scratch, I hardly sleep at all.

At breakfast, the other chaps prepare a sailor’s drink, rum and hot milk. Yuck! I try but I can’t get it down, I stick to coffee.

We’re cruising up and down through the islands, fish and have a great time. In the evenings we listen to the old architect’s stories of which he has many to tell. The four days go by much too quickly.

Urs calls me into the office and hands me my full electrician’s license. I didn’t need another interview. The license just came in the mail. Australia is a great country.