Enga Province

 

Melbourne CBDs skyline towards Flinders station

As the days unfolded and ushered in new chapters of living and studying in Australia, I found myself navigating not only the concrete jungle of Melbourne's towering buildings but also the intricate web of cultural complexities that separated my simple, conservative Melanesian perceptions from the complexities of modern Australian society.

The clash of cultures was evident from the beginning, manifesting itself in unexpected ways. The first cultural wave hit me with the nuances of dressing. In Oksapmin, where simplicity and functionality dictated our dress, the transition to Melbourne's urban sprawl exposed me to a myriad of fashion choices that screamed individualism. The diversity in clothing styles, from casual wear to business attire, left me feeling like an outsider in a clothing wonderland, struggling with the unspoken language of fashion.

Dining experiences presented another cultural shock. In rural Papua New Guinea, communal meals were integral to our way of life. Eating with bare hands and engaging in the meal right away was not just a custom but a deeply rooted practice. The formal setting of Australian dining halls, complete with the clinking of forks and knives, felt strangely foreign. Navigating the intricacies of a multi-course meal and adhering to the unspoken rules of polite conversation during dining became a steep learning curve for my village hands accustomed to the simplicity of communal feasts.

Moving beyond dining tables and venturing into public spaces, especially within the academic world, exposed me to the openness of Australian communication. In Papua New Guinea, discussions were often limited to designated leaders, and the majority listened rather than actively participated. Openly sharing thoughts and engaging in discussions with peers felt like a foreign concept, challenging the reserved nature of Papua New Guinean discourse. Even within the academic setting, the shift from passive learning to dynamic and interactive classrooms in Australia required a monumental adjustment.

It wasn't just the openness that stood out but also the importance of time in Australian culture. Time was a highly valued asset, with trains and public transport systems adhering strictly to schedules. This was a stark contrast to the laid-back timing of Papua New Guinea, where an 8 am appointment could mean an event taking place four hours later. The efficiency of Australian systems emphasized the importance of punctuality, a concept foreign to the constant delays and disruptions back home.

 In the lecture halls of Melbourne, students freely expressed their opinions, shared personal experiences, and engaged in lively debates. The exchange of ideas was not just encouraged but deemed essential to the learning process. This academic discourse challenged the norms of my Melanesian upbringing, where questioning authority was uncommon, and discussions were reserved for the elite few.

Navigating this cultural clash became an enlightening journey, although one troubled with challenges. It was a process of reevaluating the standards of my Melanesian upbringing and adapting to the rich tapestry of diversity that Australia offered. Gradually, I began to appreciate the beauty in the differences, recognizing that this clash of cultures was not a battle but an opportunity for personal growth and understanding.

As I embraced the Australian way of life, I carried with me the wisdom of Papua New Guinea's simplicity, weaving it into the fabric of this new and complex cultural landscape. The comparison of traditions and modernity became the essence of my transformative journey, rising above geographical boundaries and expanding my worldview in ways I could have never imagined.

Divanap villages in Oksapmin swamped by a forest of yar trees