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The Princess Royal

I was ordered to the clinic for stitches to my right index finger (a scar I still bear). Surprisingly, the nurse in attendance was gentle and swift. I was bandaged, stitched up and in no time I could join the school. I gazed over at Emily. She remained aloof, nay, even glad, at having called the school at my expense. Those Papuan girls take no prisoners.

We all dutifully marched to the Admin College Library, about a kilometer from our school. My face was wet and my finger hurt. At the library we waited for about half an hour. My mum was working upstairs in the library, a modern building with large plate-glass windows, so I strained to see if she could see me from her vantage point in the library above. Eventually she did spot me. I held up my bandaged index finger seeking sympathy. I think she registered something but didn’t come out to see what all the fuss was about.

Suddenly, a limousine drove up. Princess Anne alighted from it! Pushing her way through the crowd of about thirty children, in grey tropic-uniforms, she greeted some grubby boys at the front of the crowd. “Yas, yas, indeed,” she seemed to be muttering. I pushed my way to the front, presenting my injury. Anne took one look at me and coldly turned away walking up the modern concrete path. I felt devastated at her lack of sympathy as she moseyed off.

I heard later that when the library staff presented the greeting cake to her a Palomino bug walked over her slice.

The Riot

Later that year, my hand was pretty much mending. I had the stitches out. I was mucking around with my pals again, getting into trouble, as all ten year old boys do. It was a typical late dry-season (around August or September) weekend. People in PNG are keen on Rugby League and a, “friendly-match,” was taking place at the stadium in Boroko, the towns shopping district. Usually, the, “Coastal,” or Papuans play against them, “Highlanders,” the New Guineans. Sadly, the Highlanders lost the game that Saturday afternoon. A riot broke out, so enraged were the losing, “Highland,” fans.

Talk about defeat! Highlanders are great warriors known for tribal fights. They took defeat seriously. They rampaged through Boroko, smashing shop windows, upturning cars and creating pandemonium. A broadcast went out over the radio, “Stay inside!” Everyone was in lock-down all Saturday night and Sunday, as the losing side settled the score. I remember the excitement of the curfew, or well at least not go out driving, and some of our friends visited (they didn’t mind coming over brave souls). They told my parents what they saw. “The Steamships and BP’s shop windows are all smashed!”

I actually felt they were relishing it. Anyway, it was great fun being in the thrill of the mob and the Highlanders soon settled down. Everyone went back to school and work on Monday. There’s nothing like a riot in Port Moresby to make for an interesting time.

There were other events large and small in 1974 that were fun for a kid. I remember they curbed and guttered one of the roads the Royals were driving along. It was the only kerbing in town at the time. Also, a wind blew Princess Anne’s dress up. Some crafty photographer snapped her derriere and it won an international photo prize.

The prize for me was just being a kid in a place where few other kids would grow up.

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