I had dinner with a colleague last week at the Crowne Plaza Cafe in Port Moresby when we feasted on spaghetti bolognese. For me this was the Cafe’s top offer of the evening! But obviously am biased because I enjoyed the dish so much. The spaghetti was cooked to perfection and the bolognese sauce was beautifully seasoned. I’ve never enjoyed the dish as much as I did then.
I first tasted spaghetti bolognese, Italy’s great culinary gift to the world – actually cooked and ate it at Cameron High School many many many moons ago when the high school had it’s first ever open day. Parents, guardians and the whole new township of Alotau was invited to the event. I couldn’t remember anything else on that day except for loads of people and our cooking group trying to get the spaghetti cooked right and the sauce well-seasoned under the hawke-eyed supervision of our Aussie-Italian teacher who shall be called Mr A.
That was the first time any of us girls had ever heard of the beige coloured long brittle sticks like spikes on a stonefish only longer and slightly thicker and the meaty sauce that went with it plus on top of that a near impossibility trying to pronounce the name of the dish! Mostly we giggled when asked what it was which meant that the onus was on Mr A to pronounce the name of the dish. Am sure he must have been mighty ticked off by that but he never showed it only glad that we cooked it according to his liking and, sold out in no time.
We were amazed at how pliable these ‘spikes’ became when dipped into hot salted boiling water and after about 10 or so minutes in the pot they came out looking wobbly and spirally which meant they were cooked. On their own, the spaghetti tasted like nothing we’d ever tasted before. Come to think of it now, the spaghetti tasted like wet flour – almost tasteless. The meaty sauce made a world of difference to the taste of the the complete dish. At that time, to a Milne Bay lass, anything cooked without coconut cream must taste gross.
The sauce was made up of pounds of well-seasoned mince meat ala Mr A. As I remembered the dish was a hit with everyone and soon we ran out of it. This was a great reward. Running out of this foreign -sounding dish with a foreign sounding name was amazing.
Am sure we sold out because people must have gone for this funny looking funny sounding dish for the novelty of it or perhaps because they were simply hungry. In any case we sold out which was everyone’s goal for the open day especially for those students involved in cooking and selling cooked food. Maybe we sold out because all the teachers and some of the expat workers from Alotau town ordered our spaghetti bolognese. There was a big expat community in Alotau and our teachers were mostly Australian.
I think one of the weirdest things I remembered about the dish at high school was that we couldn’t eat the spaghetti bolognese with a spoon! None of us at that age (13 and 14 year olds) had mastered the delicate art of eating with a fork. So who got the last laugh – I bet it was Mr A – our cooking supervisor! And oh, he wasn’t the Home Economics teacher just an Italian with a passion for spaghetti bolognese that underpinned his passion for teaching and hence we benefited from his spaghetti bolognese-making expertise. I am eternally grateful for this bit of non-curricula lesson.
That high school open day cooking experience had awakened the unstoppable inner culinary adventurer inside of me and now I look forward to tasting new dishes and cuisine wherever I found myself in a new country or a new place even here in PNG.
Thank you Mr A for adding to my list of the weird, wonderful and strange sounding strange tasting dishes, the awesome spaghetti bolognese.
The south side of Samarai Island. The sight of a lone man in his canoe – still the main mode of transport for many people in these islands.
It was a short trip to Samarai from Doini Island – less than 30 minutes. I had never seen the island from this side before.
The Kwato Mission boats, MV Osiri and MV Labini would berth here some Saturdays bringing shoppers from Kwato and the famous homemade Kwato bread and buns. These were a popular hit as the ladies always returned to Kwato with the large empty bread basins.
Many happy memories of this wharf especially when the mission boats, MV Osiri and MV Labini would berth here for Kwato islanders to do their shopping at Samarai’s two main department stores – Steamships and Burns Philp and many other shops such as the hardware store.
Samarai was the District headquarters for the Milne Bay District before the advent of provinces. It was a hub for many islanders and a government nerve-centre for Milne Bay District in the south eastern tip of Papua New Guinea.
To a little girl growing up on the neighbouring island of Kwato in the mid-60s, Samarai had everything from a post office to two hospitals, two prisons, two clubs (mind you the two of everything meant one for whites and one for natives) but one bank, one dedicated hardware store, one bakery that turns out beautiful Samarai bread (the ones that come close to this size of bread could be found at Brumby’s bakery in Vision City in Port Moresby), a fresh local vegetable market and so on.
Samarai was an exciting place to be. There were lots of colonial government officers mainly Australian and a number of mixed race families lived here too.
We used to visit the dentist on Samarai a couple of times a year – arrrrgh that was a visit no kid wants to make but such was life for 7-8 year olds in the early ’60s.
This memorial stands on one of the main drags leading to the many lovely colonial residences and the Samarai cricket ground. Many of these houses were built like the ones you can still see today in Cairns, Australia.
The message on this memorial is not politically correct now but it must have been in those days or how else would they have got the message etched on the thing in the first place. As a young girl I never paid attention to the message until much later.
I don’t know why this memorial still stands with its politically incorrect message. To my knowledge no-one had tried to remove it from this beautiful island. I dare to think now that perhaps its historical heritage value is considered more than by removing it.
In fact I think this is a classic example of a memorial that could be regarded as offensive, yet it tells a story of what times were like then. Particularly the colonial mentality that reigned supreme in those days. How different would Milne Bay have been or for that matter PNG if this message were to have continued into the 21st Century. I dare not think about that. The value now would be in tourism mostly and something to see when at Samarai or in these islands.
Samarai was self-sufficient. It had everything we needed in the islands and more. There was a bank – the Bank of New South Wales (now Westpac) which was situated in the heart of the town and a tea shop where meat pies and coca cola were the popular items on the menu.
Samarai was the place to be on Saturdays for grocery shopping, native vegetables, smoked fish, cooked chestnuts in coconut, Logea aigaru (unique green leaves that are found in Milne Bay and absolutely delicious when cooked in coconut and as an accompaniment to smoked fish) and many other exciting bits and pieces such as icecream, apples and meat pies not to mention Buntings biscuits (white) and navy bread biscuits. My faourite sweet biscuits in those days were called ‘MilkyWay’ and ‘Tea Cake’.
This island was a heavenly treasure trove for us ‘other’ neighbouring islanders who were fortunate to be on Samarai on Saturdays, ANZAC Day and Kaihea (cultural festival) events.
On ANZAC Day (25th April) school children would gather to march around the island led by the Pacific Island Regiment Band. This was an exciting time for us. We’d come over from Kwato to join in the celebration. Everyone would congregate infront of the Memorial Hall for speeches etc. We’d also sing hymns and the one I especially remember is “O God Our Help In Ages Past”.
We came from Kwato Island to join in the commemoration. We would join the parade with the Pacific Islands Regiment (PIR) and march along the identified route which brought us back to the Memorial Hall. I didn’t quite understand why we had to do this but it felt good to be marching in our Brownie uniforms. I was fascinated with the bagpipes that the PIR carried and played as we marched to the tunes.
A plaque (photo on the right) honouring the fallen in Gallipoli reminds us that war is not a cool thing then and now. I could not recall ever having seeing this plaque but that’s probably because we only went anywhere near the Memorial Hall only when invited or when there was a good reason to be anywhere near it such as the ANZAC Day commemorative events.
I dug into my memory bank and recalled that hundreds of copra bags full of copra waiting to be shipped would be piled high on one side of the main wharf. We’d look for the dried coconuts that fell out on the side – they made such a lovely snack!
Walking down to Government Wharf and our boat to take us back to Alotau, I felt a pang of homesickness. Well, even a grown-up feels that from time to time. We are all captives of the tranquility of these islands. Especially the peace it brings especially when the day is done and one is in a reflective mood which I admit was my state of mind as we strolled towards the boat.
We assembled at Government Wharf and boarded our boat. There was no-one I knew I could wave aioni (good bye) to. Kind of sad. We pulled away from the wharf and as we set the course for Alotau we passed the main wharf and what used to be the Steamships wharf and all I could see was critical infrastructure falling apart and no-one seems to be doing anything about it.
Views of the seafront where the Samarai CBD was once the hub of financial, economic, and social activities.
This seafront was a hive of acivity in the ’60s and ’70s which made Samarai Island the place to be. Even during the early ’80s and ’90s. It was a meeting place for all sorts of people I reckon – and I don’t mean that in a bad way. Samarai was such an iconic place then.
Would we be able to rekindle that illustrious past maybe in another way and make it once again the hub every province needs. Each province needs more than one hub to get services to remote areas of the province.
“Back to Samarai the island of my dreams….” courtesy of the Island Sounds resonates with all those who came to love this idyllic little island, once full of life.
So the visit to Samarai was a painful reminder that we seem to let our history and heritage fade before our very eyes. We seem to take what was really good and practical in the past so much for granted and which we can use and turn to our advantage in our current development plans and activities. We seem to go for new things rather than building on the ones we already have. Samarai is a very real case in point.
It is still worth a visit if you are in Alotau and need to stretch your legs or do some island-hopping over a weekend. Samarai is worthy of a stop.
I believe there is time for a major resucitation and facelift. Let’s get government services back to the smaller islands in the southeast of Milne Bay by making Samarai a critical stopover place. It is bound to grow from its hibernating roots if given even a dog’s chance, to revive itself with the help of those who loved the island and still do. Perhaps the ‘Samarai Island diaspora’ is an excellent start. What sayeth ye?