across the sea inlet from the Rabaul Matupit community stands a tall breathing volcano, once spit ash across the farmers fields, the coconut plantations, the vegetable gardens, the houses, schools, hospitals, hotels, banks, streets. Now remains a memory of what was once the most pleasant place to be in Papua New Guinea. The local community remains, unable to be relocated, unable to find other land, unwilling also, for this is their land, land of harvesting the fowls eggs to sell at the market, 2kina, 3kina a pop, 10kina? perhaps. To sell coconuts, beetlenut/buai – and return on the back of a big truck bouncing up and down on the grey ashen streets.
I have been in PNG for a few weeks, working with the Mineral Policy Institute to document the social and environmental impacts of mining – see http://www.mpi.org for further photos and multimedia when they arise.