just in case, I took another bag of meat

in case Lucky might still have been around. She wasn't there.
Death has been close to consciousness this week. Peter lost his brother in a car accident last weekend so I went to the haus krai at Tent Siti with my volunteer wontok yesterday after work. I hadn't actually been in to Tent Siti although I had been past it before on the way to Bumayong. The family were very kind to welcome us as mourners and we sat on the coconut palm branches and I felt a sense of privilege that I was allowed to be part of this sacred memorial of Apo, the young man who died.
Wendy was there and Betty, Cynthia and Delilah. Their faces were painted with mourning clay and they spoke to me as if it was the most natural thing in the world that a waitpela man from another culture was participating in the grieving. On leaving, the children - about a dozen of them walked us up to the main road where we caught a PMV back to the top gate.
I have been in PNG nearly a year now (four days short) and I feel so honoured that people have let me into this most intimate of life's emotions as they share their grief. I did not think that I would get so close to people.