Secular Mass in Papua New Guinea

BY SHEREE TAMS

Great gobs of red spit were hitting the ground like a hail storm. the unemployed, gamblers, rascals, spirited bus drivers, wayward teenagers, airport customs officials - crowded into an open field, united by their orange teeth, they came to socialize, gamble, gossip, play darts...but most of all to spit.

Here at Mount Hagan’s city limits, our modern fuel efficient Japanese minibus with wooden benches, four-wheel drive and the local version of fuzzy dice was greeted by a hand painted 20-foot billboard, proclaiming in vibrant, garish colours that there would be “NO CHEWING BEETLENUT BEYOND THIS POINT. “ Red-soaked earth preceded the sign, where the large crowd had gathered, and brown dirt continued beyond. The line was drawn, marking a bloody battleground strew with broken husks. It was a men’s club, a vice for the common man. The only women present were serving, cleaning and gathering. Their posture was unobtrusive and humbled.

As we continued towards town away from the airport and the field of spit, we discovered a street lined with churches - huts with crosses, not just one or two, but too many to count. This was salvation’s ground zero. There were more missions than shops, but the streets were deserted. Given that secular mass was being held at the the suburban spitting ground at the edge of town.

EXCERPTED FROM THE APRIL/MAY ISSUE OF OUTPOST MAGAZINE 2001