As the airline captain announced we were beginning our descent into Jackson International Airport in Port Moresby, we scanned the horizon for our first glimpses of Papua New Guinea. I wondered what this land we had been studying about and preparing for would truly be like. As we flew over the Coral Sea, which separates Papua New Guinea from Australia, I could see coral reefs below us standing out like giant aqua-colored islands with whitecap fringes. Suddenly, as the plane banked to the right, the PNG shoreline appeared. The mountainous topography around Port Moresby looked enchanting and mystical. Gazing down at the landscape, I saw no highways or train tracks. No shopping malls surrounded by acres of parking lots. Except for the central business district with its modern high-rise structures, Port Moresby did not seem like any large city I was accustomed to. There were sunken ships in the harbor. Dirt roads wound through the hills. Shanties and tin roofs appeared among the trees.

We had been warned about the dangers of being out after dark in Port Moresby. With our plane landing at 5:10 p.m. and sunset less than an hour away, I silently prayed that we would get through customs quickly. We still had a 20-minute drive through a dangerous part of town to get to our lodgings at Pacific Adventist University (PAU). With declaration forms in hand, we gathered our six trunks, duffel bag, trombone case and carry-on bags and walked up to the customs table. The official asked us a few questions and waved us through. Praise the Lord! It’s typically not that easy. I think we got through in record time.

Beyond customs, the first people to meet us were our teammates, David and Cindy White. Though we had never met them face to face, it seemed like a reunion with old friends. Ten minutes later, Dale and Lety Goodson pulled up with their pickup truck to help haul our baggage to PAU. What a blessing it was to have familiar people meet us at the airport. As we drove the 18 kilometers to PAU, we breathed the diesel fumes from heavily laden trucks and vans laden bumping along the rutted, winding roads. The dirty shacks, animals, and people in rags all reminded me that we were now in a developing country. On the other hand, the mountain scenery with gorgeous flowering shrubs, colorful birds, and beautiful sunsets makes this seem like a real paradise.

For the most part, the people of Port Moresby are very friendly and helpful. We have to be on our guard, though, whenever we go into the city. With unemployment at 90 percent, crime is high. We are thankful that AFM recently built a transit house on a piece of high ground above the PAU campus, as it offers a haven of beauty and safety for AFM missionaries. Its veranda offers panoramic views of mountains and sunsets.

The day after we arrived was a politically significant time in the PNG’s electoral process. It was the close of nominations, and caravans of people with painted faces wearing headdresses of feathers and chanting slogans were making their way through the narrow downtown streets while spokesmen in cars with loudspeakers on top tried their best to persuade the populace to vote for their candidates. Police roadblocks were set up all over the city.

The other day, I was riding with David out to the Adventist mission office on the other side of town when the police at one such roadblock flagged us down. As we approached the roadblock, I instinctively reached into my pocket for my wallet because I wanted to make sure I had my identification ready. The policeman asked me where my seat belt was. I moved my arms so he could see that I was wearing it. He said, “You just now put it on. I saw you do it.” I explained to him that I had always had my seat belt on. He didn’t believe me. David said, “We are honest. We are missionaries.” He accepted that, but he still fined us twenty kina for having a burned-out backup light. Next time, I’ll try to look less suspicious.

Shopping has been a new and interesting experience. We’ve done everything from buying produce and baked goods from the outdoor farmers’ market at PAU to browsing for meri dresses and swamp boots in Boroko (a commercial suburb of Port Moresby) to perusing the aisles of crowded supermarkets blaring hit songs from the seventies. It is challenging to calculate how much food to buy for the next four months in the bush. Imagine the reaction of the check-out clerk when we rolled into her lane with four shopping carts overflowing and one flat-bed dolly stacked high with cases of canned goods, toilet paper, cooking oil, bags of oatmeal and other items we will need for basic living. Since the selection of food is very limited and expensive out in the village, it is necessary to purchase most of our food here in Port Moresby. Fortunately, we won’t need to buy everything at this point since we will be living in the Whites’ house in Kotale while they are on furlough in the States. This allows us time to get our feet wet in the mission field before having to buy supplies for our own house, which we must build.

Our second Sabbath in PNG brought a cultural experience that gave us a taste of what village life will be like. The Whites were invited to the Eight Mile Adventist Church near PAU. The invitation also included lunch with a family, and we were invited, too. Sabbath morning, we all piled into the truck and headed to a very poor area down a deeply rutted dirt road. At the church, we were treated like celebrities. Everyone wanted to shake our hands and greet us. When the service was over, we were led on foot down a road to a group of houses on stilts where the host family lives. Underneath one of the houses, about 25 of us gathered for the meal. A traditional mumu was ready—bananas and sweet potatoes in coconut in a wire basket covered with foil, hot rocks and banana leaves and placed in the ground to cook. There was also rice, sago with pumpkin and coconut, pumpkin greens, fish, chicken, bread and drinks. There was much visiting and language tutoring, and then a presentation of gifts. We were initiated into the family!

In a broad sense, this is what missions is about—initiating people into the family of God. As we continue our journey to meet the Gogodala, thank you for your prayers that we will be accepted into their family.

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