By Sr. Walfridis, SSpS

Sr. Walfridis, SSpS has been a missionary in Papua New Guinea for nearly half a century. She is now long past the retiring age but still serves joyfully in the vocation she choose so many years ago. It is very clear that Our Lord’s promise has been fulfilled in her. “Live on in my love... that my joy may be complete.”(John 9 - 11)

I am now a retiree here in our retiree here in our Retirement House. I am cooped up and no longer in circulation especially now that I am half blind due to glaucoma. Two years ago I used to drive to Kefamo every Saturday for my Legion of Mary meetings, but now I cannot drive anymore. I also used to have my little garden as my OT (Occupational Therapy) where I could putter around whenever I liked and plant whatever I liked, but now I have to let it go for I can no longer distinguish between plants and weeds. Since I can no longer read nor sing, the Lord has been good to give me another OT – playing the organ by ear for I cannot see the notes anymore and improvise the accompaniment, I play from 4-5 in the afternoon everyday and from 5-6 we retirees have adoration before the Blessed Sacrament.

Hopes Dashed

When I got posted here in PNG in 1952, I look forward to working or doing mission work in the bush. Unfortunately I landed again in school. This school is a catechist school in the main station of the SVD and SSpS Headquarters in Alexishafen. The parish priests from the different outstations used to send one or two of their best boys her to be trained as their future catechists.

The Long and The Short

We were three sisters teaching here (Sr. Casparia, Sr. Theonilde and myself). Every morning we used to come to school with our push bikes. When the boys would see a sister coming, they’d either say “Longpelasista I kam” that means Sr. Casparia Sr. , the tall one) or “Sotpela “Sista I kam” that means Sr. Theonilde, the short one) or “Sista I kam” (that means me). One day I happened that a strand of my hair was coming out of my cap, a boy poked his neighbor with his elbow and said “Gras belong emi olsem nil.” When I came home, I asked Sr. Regional what it meant. She laughed and said they said your hair is like nail very straight for they are very proud of their kinky hair where they can stick anything in then such as pencils or flowers.

A Museum Piece!

Since in those days many of the people in the outstations along the north coast have never seen any sisters. The late Fr. Saiko. The Mission Manager asked our regional superior if the sister could come once in a while with boats that were going to pick up copra from these outstations. One weekend two of us went with Fr. Saiko after supper, slept in the boat and reached Banara in the morning. First we had Holy Mass and then the people who were present came around us. Some where very timid and shy; a few bolder ones touches our habits and stared at us so that I felt like a museum piece. When Fr. Saiko told them who we are, they felt at home with us. They were very eager to shake hands and tell us about themselves and answer our questions.

Shipwreck

One little girl asked me why I wear ‘lapla’ (veil) around my head. I just said to keep the sun and wind from my head and they laughed. While the boat crew were loading the copra, we went to visit nearby villages. After supper we left and arrived at the main station in the morning. One time we went to Bogla in a boat called the Petrus and on the way home we dropped by at Ulingan. After supper we left and arrived home. However the captain overslept and missed the entrance to the harbor. We were awakened by the Captains voice “Sista kirap, wara I kamap” (Sisters wake up. Water is coming up.) we found ourselves all wet and all the copra bags were under water. Fr. Saiko radioed and soon the Arnold came to rescue us. The next morning I went to the drylock to see how much damaged the Petrus sustained. It found out that the keel was completely torn off. This unforgettable day ended our missionary journey with St. Paul, I can say... I was once shipwrecked too.

Braving the Sharks

The lord provided us another apostolate. Every Saturday Miss Coles, an Australian lay missionary, who was also teaching in this high school, and I went to a vocational school; about an hour drive from Alexishafen. At first we used to go there in a dilapidated green mini-bus where we loaded our push bikes at the back and drove as far as Rempi where we left the bus and continued our way by means of our push bikes. There was no bridge yet over a wide river for vehicles, but there was a small narrow bridge for pedestrians. We usually stayed for one hour for religious instructions after which we returned to Rempi to retrieve “Miss Peggy” our green bus. Later when the river was bridged for vehicles, we went by Fr. Saiko’s jeep. When his jeep was unavailable we took the small motor boat. I happened that the sea was rough and so we could not land. What would we do? Miss Coles undaunted by sharks and crocodiles jumped and swam to school and taught for one hour wet to the skin. I had no choice but to stay put in the boat for one hour. Had it not been fort old habit I would have gone with Miss Coles. Our present habit would have been more convenient. Perhaps had I dared jump I would have gone down like lead into the sea. (Miss Coles became Sr. Dominique and is now one of our sisters here)

By Horse

When I was transferred to the highlands, I had to look for another way to visit the schools. In those days there were no roads for vehicles so I had to go on horse. On one occasion a sister and I went with Fr. Kolnik to Utu. We used to go by jeep just as far as the road could take us to a certain village where we left the jeep and where two horses were waiting for us. We were three horses with two horses. What are we going to do? Fr. Kolnik gallantly offered us the horses while he walked. The road was actually no roads at all but merely foot paths and I was rather scared, but the horses was not and I trusted him. When we arrived the people were already lined up on both sides of the road leading to the Church and Father’s house. We felt like V.I.P.’s shaking hands with everybody left and right from grandfathers to babies.

Then the catechist invited us to come to school to listen to his pupils’ song. He also made them do some numbers in the little blackboard. He was very pleased when they could answer some question we asked then from their little catechism.

Like Wet Chickens

The next morning after the Mass we prepared for going home. Again all the parishioners were lined up on both sides for a repeat performance of shaking hands and goodbyes. as before Fr. Kolnik refused to ride but gave is the horses. As we were nearing the village where we left the jeep, a heavy downpour overtook us. I tried to make the hors run a bit faster; instead he galloped and I was lifted up from the saddle when he jumped over a deep ditch. I thought I would land in the ditch, but fortunately I landed back on the saddle. When we were reached the village the people were, of course, very sorry for us and offered us some ‘kulau’ (young coconuts). When we arrived home, Sr. Regional was at the entrance to meet us. She was laughing for she said we were like wet chickens.