Kandep: A Land of Hope and Resilience.

Welcome to one of the last frontiers in Papua New Guinea; Kandep, a place only whispered on Facebook, shrouded in tales of Vikings and Warlords. Yet beyond these stereotypes that we see on social media, lies an unseen paradise nestled amidst the swamplands. According to a famous traditional myth, Kandep is where the legendary figure Opone settled.

The myth begins with a man named Andaita and his sister, Itame, who had an incestuous relationship and bore three children. The firstborn was Tita, who came from the west and settled in the Kiunga area near the Ok Tedi Mine Site. It was there that Tita's wife gave birth to a son named Hela. Hela, in turn, fathered four sons: Hela Kuli (Huli), Hela Opone (Obena), Hela Dugube, and Hela Duna. These four brothers shared a house until the day Opone and Kuli discovered that their brothers were consuming human flesh. In that instant, they began speaking different languages and separated. Dugube settled on the Papuan Plateau, Duna at Lake Kopiago, while Kuli and Opone fled to the Northeast. Kuli stayed at Tari and founded the Huli, while Opone traveled on to Kandep where he laid the foundations for what we now recognize as Enga. In contemporary iterations of this legend, the dispersal of the 4 sons of Hela is associated with the distribution of mineral wealth.

It was 5 am in Wabag, and my dream was interrupted by Terence Shem's voice. As being the leader of our team, he had stayed up all night to ensure he would wake us at 5 am when our transport arrived. We stumbled out of our rooms with sleepy eyes, bumping into each other in the corridor, unsure of what to say, offering only awkward murmurs of "Good morning" that seemed to scrape along the floor. Our transportation was a white 15-seater Hiace van, only a few weeks old. Since there were 24 students at the lodging facility, we had selected 12 to go to Kandep Secondary School the night before. If another vehicle arrived, we would all go together. Not everything was going according to plan, so we had to improvise one way or the other. We were travelling to Kandep, and our route was the Tambul-Mendi backroad.

Taking a different route often reveals that the destination is not just a place but a state of mind, a feeling of freedom, and a deep sense of connection to the world and its diverse lifestyles. At least, that’s how I viewed it. And what else was there to view? Tambul Ice and All Things Nice.

Unfolding before us was the imposing view of Mt Giluwe towering over everything else with a blanket of cloud at its feet. It stood like a background wallpaper to the characteristic landscape of the upper highlands - rushing creeks, vegetable plots, smoke popping from kunai thatched huts, and lush forests in the backyard.

We passed through Tambul Station around 7 am when the day was just beginning. It was a typical Tambul morning – fog blocking the morning sun, local pedestrians huddled tightly on the roadside; their expressions solemn as the cold air froze every muscle on their faces. Yet anyone could sense the friendliness radiating from within.

And amidst the adults, school children marched carefree beside the highway on their way to school, with their green and yellow uniforms adding splashes of color to the grey of the fog. Even as we crossed into Southern Highlands Province at 8:30 am, children were still playfully holding hands and engaging in some form of games on their way to school, their instincts guiding them not to cross the white line onto the road.

We paused the trip at the junction to Mendi-Tambul-Kandep, where we had flour balls for breakfast. Among the students aboard the 15-seater van, we also had Ms. Monica Imelen, the Provincial Guidance Officer, with us. She had been our first contact since arriving in Wabag on Monday, and for the past two days, she had shown unwavering dedication and commitment to her work, treating us with kindness, humility, and love. Before embarking on our journey, she prayed for us, and it was by God's guiding grace and mercy that we safely traveled from Lae to Wabag and now from Wabag to Kandep, on a road less traveled by public motor vehicles.

It was also the driver's first time driving on this road.

Traversing the Upper Lai Valley felt like journeying through parts of Switzerland we see in those online pictures. And you won't find much pictures of this place online because not many people with HDR cameras come around to this part of the country. The roads were perfectly sealed, with only minor defects in some stretches. Local bystanders took notice of our banner in front of the van and waved with enthusiasm as we cruised in 5th gear through villages like Suru and Map, and onwards to Wambip and Topa, with the river Lai in parallel but opposite motion. I fired a WhatsApp message to one of my colleagues who was on break in Port Moresby, “Bro, me come osem lo ples blo you now”. Shout out to Naik Istox.

After the SHP-Enga backroad checkpoint, we crossed a bridge and drove through some clusters of coniferous trees on the right and a village beside the river on the left. We were following the path once travelled by our mythological ancestor, Opone. The Hiace – making its debut on this road - braved its way uphill through countless steep bends and winding mountain passes, as the passengers sat marveling at breathtaking sceneries below. Finally, after two sharp turns at almost acute angles, I relaxed my anxiety level and eased back into the front seat; the driver now confidently shifting back into 4th and 5th gears as Kandep emerged in the distance, veiled in clouds.

"My grandfather was a simple primary school teacher here in Kandep," I began, addressing the students who had gathered into the small mess building.

His name is Anthony Kondon, and he spent many years in Kandep as a teacher and headmaster at Kambilya and Yapum. In the 1960s, he made a bold decision to follow the Catholic Missionaries to attend Holy Trinity Teachers College in Mt Hagen and became a teacher. As a result of that decision to become a teacher, and an ‘elite’ in his community back then in the 90s, his children went on to become engineers in the 2000s, and now his grandchildren are studying at universities, pursuing engineering degrees in 2023.

"Your decisions today and your sacrifices now will not only shape your future but the future of an entire generation after you. One day the whole village will respect your family because of you,” I said, reemphasizing a few times.

Rain poured heavily outside the small mess building, and some students were peering in through the windows to get a glimpse, oblivious to the nearby haven of their dormitories just a few steps away. Those who found a seat in the mess sat, and those who didn't, stood. A few young girls, no older than 15, sat attentively on the floor in front. Unaware of the world beyond Kandep, they sat there, eagerly grasping any hints to form an idea.

Before my speech, Miss Aalice Pokon, the Female Vice President of the Enga Student and Staff Association, had addressed the gathering. She was a fourth-year Agriculture student and a local girl from Kandep. I could see it in their faces, after listening to the only female Unitech Kandep student in 2022 speak, that these young girls in front now harbored the confidence that one day they would leave Kandep and venture into a different place where a variety of languages were spoken. No longer resigned to becoming just housewives or tending after pigs when they grew up, they could already picture themselves as engineers and accountants. The time was nearing 5 pm, and the rain persisted, leaving the floor wet. Yet, they didn't care. They sat there on the wet floor intently listening to every word spoken - their dreams taking shape right before their eyes.

The primary focus was on highlighting the significance of education and encouraging our young brothers and sisters in this remote place to persist in their studies and strive for a university education. This was not a mere daydream for the students living in Kandep but rather, a concrete reality that awaited those with the determination to achieve it.

And for some Unitech students that hailed from Kandep, this was a moment of significance for them. Words flowed from the heart, lubricated by tears as the rain continued it drizzle outside. Students recounted their own struggles and experiences, knowing that they shared the same background as these audience of young dreamers. They understood their stories, their struggles, and their aspirations - some hailing from the same tribes, the same villages and who knew their parents by name, hut and karuka plot. This moment triggered flashbacks of hardships faced - walking miles to fetch water, gathering firewood to keep their humble huts warm at night, and the educational journey thus far. But now, armed with knowledge and exposure, they stood as living proof that struggles were not roadblocks but stepping stones to a brighter future.

Before we bid farewell to the students, who still huddled around us in large numbers, they approached us with all sorts of questions. We answered each query with enthusiasm and encouragement, reminding them that the road to Unitech had been traveled by Kandep students before and that they too could embark on that journey.

In a true display of Engan hospitality, Kandep Secondary School sent us off with a generous feast of pork and kaukau prepared in a traditional mumu, accompanied by refreshing cartons of coke. We departed Kandep around 6:30 pm with our hearts full with gratitude and for the opportunity to inspire a new generation of technocrats.

This time we took the familiar Kandep-Laiagam-Wabag route, and as darkness appeared outside, a deep sense of stillness settled in the cabin, granting each of us ample time for deep reflection on the journey we had undertaken. Once again, Ms. Imelen led us in a heartfelt prayer, seeking divine protection and guidance for our return to Wabag. We had our plans, but it was God who had the final say, and our trust and faith in Him was unwavering since the moment we departed the university gates at East Taraka.

Ms. Imelen followed after the prayer with her insightful feedback and constructive evaluations, pinpointing areas of strengths and weaknesses on the presentations we had delivered earlier. I sat in the back seat this time, and slowly closed my eyes to nap on the return journey, summoning my thoughts into action while at it.

Kandep, a land of promises, was holding onto the dreams of many young Papua New Guinea citizens, including a young boy who woke up that morning, walking along the karanas road to Kandep Secondary School. He returned home at dusk with clothes soaked in rain but with a warm heart swelling with hope and determination.

“I can do this,” he whispered underneath his breathe as he picked up a pebble from the road and tossed it away. “One day I will be a civil engineer who would help seal this road.”

Ends.//