Durrie’s Reporter’s Notebook: You Never Walk Alone
Durrie interviews James Sakul, manager of a safehouse for people accused of sorcery and other violence in Goroka. Photo Credit: Claire Harbage/NPR
By Durrie Bouscaren
In small town Papua New Guinea, you never walk alone.
In fact, if you want to get anywhere on time, you should probably leave your house early. Because if you live in Goroka, your safety and well-being is a public concern. If you try to walk somewhere on your own, someone will notice that you’re alone and probably join you. Or, they’ll ask if something’s wrong—because something has to be if you’re walking alone, right? Walking and checking in with the neighbors is just how people spend their time.
It was on one of these walks that my translator sent her 20-year-old son, Yekess, to escort me. He’s a big fan of American movies, and Kevin Hart, and we got to talking about his dream of studying in New York City someday. At one point, some strangers stopped us to say hello, and afterwards he turned and asked—“Are Americans friendly? Do they say hi to you on the street?”
I paused. Just like his mom, Yekess is a sweetheart—soft-spoken, wide smile, eternally friendly. I desperately hope that people will be good to him, no matter where he goes. But I figured I should probably warn him, so he knew what to expect.
“Mostly, no.” I said. “Maybe they'll say hi if you’re in a neighborhood, or a small town. But if you’re walking down the street and it’s really crowded, people usually avoid eye contact, to be honest.”
He paused, considering.
“They all must feel so alone.” —DB
