A colleague of mine posted this on her blog...she is an Australian Volunteer to Papua New Guinea......when I read it I was speechless!!...I still am so I decided to share it with you all.
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We're Independent and we're Free, Papua New Guinea!


On Saturday night I went out for dinner. Unfortunately I was late and had to sit near some people I don’t know so well, while my friends were up at the other end of the table. Despite not particularly liking these people, I determined not to be precocious this time, but to be as polite and as amiable as possible.

It was a disaster.

First of all they were boring and old and had absolutely nothing in common with me - conversation revolved around the last time they were in Australia and what they bought, and what they were planning on buying next time they went down. But things really started going downhill when somebody mentioned, “Have you ever noticed how bad the money smells in Papua New Guinea?”

My mouth literally hung open as the six people surrounding me started discussing how on pay day Papua New Guineans (who of course don’t have wallets) stick their money in their buttcracks to take it home.

That’s right – these people were having a conversation about how Papua New Guineans stick their money in their buttcracks to take it home. Laughing and smiling at these silly people, and why their money is smelly. Because, you see, Papua New Guineans stick their money in their buttcracks to take it home.

I was dumbfounded for about sixty seconds, until I started arguing with them. “That’s simply absurd”, I said; “I just don’t believe it” and “Don’t be ridiculous”. “Have you ever seen anyone actually do that?” I asked, and I told them “I’m afraid that this is just too preposterous”. To which they replied “Oh Carolyn, you’ve only been here for a year, you don’t really know Papua New Guineans”.

This coming from people who have lived here for most, if not a good part of, their lives. Well-educated people, in their twenties and thirties. People working for high-powered law firms, aid agencies and businesses. People whose only association with Papua New Guineans is with their Haus Meri, or their waiter, or their colleague (of whom they ask “So how did you actually get this job?”, as if a Papua New Guinean wouldn’t/couldn’t have a qualification, let alone work experience).

I was simply horrified, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to throw my shoe at them, to scream at them, to shame them. I wanted to tell them that if they can’t respect the citizens they should get the hell out of this country. Instead I tried to reason and speak with them. All of the protestations and arguments I made were literally laughed at, and I rapidly got to the point where I simply couldn’t engage with these people any more. I was so angry. I felt myself curl up as I refused to make eye contact, and answered everything with monosyllables. I backed away from all conversations and sat there in my shocked silence, while they just presumed I was being a wet blanket. Because of course Papua New Guineans carry their money around in their buttcracks, why wouldn’t you believe this?

As if I’d want to be any kind of blanket around these people. I felt so ashamed to be associated with them – ashamed to be sitting with them, to be holding the same passport as them, to be in any way identifiable as one of “them”. They continued on with their conversation, just presuming that because of my skin colour I’d be in agreement with them. Deeply shamed and offended, I left the restaurant as soon as I could, but I still haven’t been able to leave behind the feelings of revulsion and disgust.