A Madang Province bag that traveled with me on my recent NZ
To the talented women of Papua New Guinea who skilfully make bilums that travel places either in their new owners luggage or shoulders that they themselves have never been to.
Bilum is a P.N.G Tok Pisin word meaning a handbag. It is skilfully hand made mostly by women who prudently plan the colours, size and fabrics with patterns that distinguish something of nature, interest or even their tribe and place of origin. If you asked me what it was I would tell you that it is the version of handbags you purchase in strangs handbag shops or the famous Gucci shops.
As a young girl growing up I learnt about the expectations of a girl emerging in a society; that she was to learn the ethos of the tribe and clan. She was expected to learn the skills of doing certain things and if she did she was considered a real woman of fine art. Learning by observation and imitation from our mums, grandparents and even aunties was the expectation of girls, until when formal schools were established that art and craft classes were encouraged for girls and boys to learn some of these key skills in the hope of conserving traditional art and craft skills. Skills such as setting traps (fish, pigs, bandicoots/possums etc..,) by boys whilst the girls were to learn the art of weaving sleeping mats, waste/arm bands and even the bilums. It wasn’t so far away from fully mastering these skills when I drifted away from my village scene to a town life where a formal education system that kept drifting me further away from immediate contact with my village life scene. Do I blame the western education system for keeping me busy and focusing on far more important things such as the education that my father strongly valued for his children? I can see how one day these experiences would eventually lead me to believe how important my early childhood up-bringing was.
Dating back to the times of my great parents and my parents it was used by the women to carry anything from storing their garden produce to even a sleeping cot for an infant /toddler. Amusingly it has changed its significance over the years which is apparent in markets throughout PNG. I guess that reminds us of how societies are radically changing overtime.
In 2008 late January, I was in Auckland for an education conference with one of my staff. That morning as we made our way to the nearest pharmacy shop situated in Queen street we were followed by two total strangers, whom we barely knew; suspicious as they seem we waited to see what they were up to until one of them said “Hey Wantok” (Tok-Pisin word meaning relative or fellow countryman). To our surprise we responded back and introduced ourselves. They admitted recognising the bilum which prompted them to meet us. How thoughtful is that we thought.
One of my recent experience with bilum was on my hitchhike experience in Okahune village in the North Island of New Zealand. I personally experienced how such distinctive bag (bilum) features continue to spark interest with strangers you meet along your life and perhaps how such experiences can change a moment and a story you live to tell.
It was Monday 7th December, 2010; the dark grey clouds scurried across the sky warning us of potential showers approaching. As such Steffi and I were in desperation to get back to the hostel, 35km from where we were and to get there we trusted any drivers that came along our path but genuinely willing to give us a free ride. After how many attempts we were hoping one came along when out of the blue we see a mini white-greyish car that stopped further down the road. Relieved and hopeful we raced down the road and met another local (a Kiwi) driver. As the conversation carried on, I learnt that the young lass had only stopped as she not only had noticed two women backpackers but a handbag that I was carrying. She distinguished it unmistakably and knew exactly where I was from that prompted her to stop. How charming, I thought. I was overwhelmed with these facts and the fact that she had lived with her parents in Mount Hagen one of the largest cities in PNG and even went to one of the international high schools in Goroka; we automatically clicked a conversation switching from English to Tok-Pisin as if two old friends were catching up. Mind you, her Tok-Pisin is as good as any PNG locals. I am sure her conversation in Tok-pisin with the next PNG person she meets will put a smile on their face/s.
Thank you Rebekah for saving us that day. You are one of the kind and considerate Kiwi locals we met on our backpacking experience.
