Buka

First six days are spent in Buka, training, being briefed, opening a bank account and, since this is not the town I will actually be living and working in, being  a bit of a tourist. My home for this week is the flat with the red balcony.

At the foot of the garden of this village is the beach

with its hot shallow water - not the greatest swimming. Buka itself is a tough, busy little town, marked by pools of red sputum: everyone chews betel nuts and expectorates the leftovers. The main difference between Buka and another Melanesian town, say Vila, is the complete lack of tourists and the lack of any support for them if any turned up. This is the real deal.

Buka is separated from the island of Bougainville itself by the Buka passage, across which boats go endlessly back and forth. 

The people in the street are indeed polite and friendly to a fault - broad toothy smiles stained red - the betel nuts again. But paradise this is not: Papua New Guinea is 158th on the UN's HDI and Bougainville has a palpable undercurrent of frustration and boredom. And rather too much liquor. However here we are with VSA for six months attempting to make some small dent in the many problems faced.

In that endeavour ideas are what really matter and the library at Arawa, where I'll be going on Tuesday, is full of them. My project is to help set up a system for recording the stories of the community there to complement the printed material already held. The other VSA volunteers here all say 'Oh I wish I had YOUR project!'

We shall see...