Recently, we talked to this couple who served as Lay
Mission-Helpers in Papau New Guinea from 1974-77 and still to this day remember
the people, the laughter and the hope:
“Forty years ago, where we were had no telephone and
electricity was only 12 hours a day. So we could use our fridge during the
daytime, but at night we couldn’t open it for fear of food spoiling. Airmail letters would take about two weeks to
come to us, and about two weeks to the recipient. So, if the grandparents asked
a question about one of the children, it was a month before they heard the
reply. We soon learned not to bother them with stories of falls and scraped
knees, because they would worry about the kids all that time!
Sometimes the lessons came from misunderstandings in
English. We worked with the Bishop of Aitape, and he had requested that four
Poor Clare Sisters come to establish a monastery. Their purpose was to pray for
the various endeavors of the missionaries in the diocese. At one social event,
I brought my newborn son, and one of the Poor Clare Sisters from Britain asked
if she could nurse my baby! I was taken aback, but learned that “nurse” in
British English means to hold and cuddle the baby. We quickly realized that we
spoke American English.
But we had many experiences where language didn’t matter. My
husband worked as an airplane mechanic, and one time the children and I went
with him to one of the highland villages. These people had never seen a
European woman or young children. Because of what they had not seen, they
believed that Europeans appeared on earth fully grown. When we arrived, people
gathered around us in a huge circle, and they noticed right away that I had a
baby who was fussing. Now I didn’t speak their language, and they didn’t speak
mine, not even pidgin English, but two women approached me and motioned to me,
and to the baby, and back and me, and led me to a place in the shade to nurse
the baby. I was so impressed that they made this huge leap from a belief that
Europeans don’t have babies to me needing to feed the baby. Every single
village had its own language and culture, but looking back I am amazed at the
oneness of humanity.
The camaraderie that we saw amongst the missionaries was
amazing. In our area there were Franciscans, the Poor Clares and us. On Friday
nights we would celebrate Mass and then get together afterward for a meal and
fellowship. It was wonderful to feel part of a team.”
“I worked as an
airplane mechanic, and we serviced quite a large area. Our planes flew every day, though as a good
witness we tried not to fly on Sundays.
One of the most interesting things for me was that I worked
more on things other than airplanes. Mechanics were so few and far between. For
example, one of the mission stations generators hadn’t worked in five years.
They worked by kerosene lamps. I was able to get enough information and parts
and fixed it one weekend. In a few hours, I was able to improve their lives.
Another time a Sister sent me her lawnmower and a bag of parts because she couldn’t
figure out how to put it back together again!
One day I got a call from the hospital that their X-ray
machine was down, and I was able to fix it temporarily until we could order the
right part. Every time I went by the
hospital, the Sister doctor who ran the place would ask me to lend a hand. They
always needed more hands, holding patients, etc. Even from a mechanic!
I’ll never forget one of the most important calls of my life.
One Easter, a carbonate artillery shell left over from World War II blew up
under the camp fire of a bunch of high school boys and shredded threw them. We
received a call that three boys would need to be flown to the main airport, and
I was asked turn the plane into an ambulance carrier. By the time they arrived,
I had modified it to fit three stretchers, and the boys were able to make it to
the hospital. It was very rewarding to be able to help.”
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