Hello everyone! I’m writing from Goroka, from the office my family has in town. Their business is called MV Microfinance. Things are different for sure. Last time I lived in a grass hut. This time I’m staying on a bunkbed in a “haus kapa” (tin-roofed house). There’s electricity. There’s solar heated water, even though the water pump is a little testy.

It’s been a busy couple of days. I got to Goroka on Saturday morning. Sat next to a nice government guy from the Ministry of Petroleum an we talked about the U.S. He’d been to Austin and Denver 12 years before. I got to Goroka, got a ride from a nice Australian guy to the Lutheran Guest House and dropped my bags there. Then I walked to the store, bought some bottled water and caught a PMV (van) to my village, Kabiufa. I spent the whole day there. I got a wicked sunburn on my neck that’s still throbbing. I’ve learned my lesson about being high up in the mountains and not putting on sunscreen.

My “apo” (namesake) cried and cried at my feet when I came back. We sat down and looked at my pictures. We storied. We walked around the garden. I caught up with Papa Pirua, my grandfather, and Pis Mary, my aunt. We sat in their roundhouse and ate some watermelon. It was a day full of the same stories about where I’ve been and what I’ve done. Jenny, my mama, came out to see me. Then Moses and Delta, my aunt and uncle who own the big house, came back from camping. They drove me back to the guesthouse after I explained I’d already bought the room. The next morning they got me from the guesthouse and took me back to Kabiufa.

Village life is exhausting sometimes. Everyone wants to shake my hand. Everyone wants to story and EVERYONE stares. But, as always, this is the most welcoming place I know. Today we went out to a place called Meteufa to deliver some pictures of my friends, the P/deKs, and to record some stories. We took a few pictures and then storied some more and then headed out. We also went to a place called Asaro to see if the Mudmen would talk with me. They asked for 1200 kina payment ($400) and I said it wasn’t American custom to pay money for an interview, but I could give them a CD. They said some other journalists paid, and so we said thanks for telling us how it goes. One man from Asaro felt sorry for us, so he said to come back later and talk with him. Then we went to the J.K. McCarthy Museum, where I worked back in 1999. My former boss Vince gave me an update. It looks good. They’re doing all kinds of outreach projects now. The governor of EHP was in the museum, this bald Australian man named Mal “Kela” Smith. He complimented me on my Tok Pisin.

The Goroka Show starts on Friday, and it’s already a big thing. Tourists and people from other villages are arriving and the town is more full than usual. It’s the 31st anniversary of the country’s independence, in addition to being the biggest event in Goroka.

It’s good, but exhausting, to be back. I’m going to sleep at 8 and 9 p.m. and waking up at 6. I’m eating well, my family is looking out for me, and we’re going pretty much everywhere in a private car. No stomach problems yet, knock on wood. So don’t worry. All is well.

I hope you’re all doing well. Please send email updates. I’ll try to check it when I can. Talk to you soon!

S.