Notes from a Spinning Planet—Papua New Guinea by Melody Carlson Page A

“Get a bottle of water from the lobby too. Just to have in your bag.”
    “Anything else?” I say with impatience. “Should I take a sleeping bag or a survival kit or maybe a handgun?”
    “Sorry. But we have to be careful. You are taking me seriously, aren't you?”
    I salute her. “Yes ma'am. Of course, ma'am.”
    She rolls her
eyes.
“And only ride in a taxi that you have called for,Maddie. Make sure they know who you are before you get in, and make sure it is a properly marked taxi.”
    “I know this already,” I remind her.
    “Yeah, yeah.” She waves me away now. “Go on. But do be careful!”
    “I promise, I will be extremely careful.”
    Then, feeling as if I'm going off to battle, I ride down the elevator and walk into the lobby. Honestly, I find that I'm looking over my shoulder as I go. It's like paranoia is kicking in, and I'm thinking I'm about to be abducted. I tell myself to just chill, but I do follow my aunt's explicit directions. First I go to the concierge and ask him to call me a taxi. Then I go and buy a bottle of water. And a chocolate bar, just in case. Then I go and wait until the taxi pulls up. I don't get in until the driver politely asks if I am Missis Chase. Okay, maybe I'm not a
missis
, but I've noticed the nationals seem to call all women that. So I say a silent prayer and get in.
    At first I feel a slight wave of apprehension when the driver takes a different route than we took yesterday. I'm actually about to say something, but then he turns down a street I recognize, and before I know it, I'm in front of the clinic. Seems he knew a shortcut. So I pay him and thank him and get out. He smiles brightly at me, and not for the first time, I think what a naturally friendly people New Guineans are-and why do we have to be so careful?
    But as I'm walking up to the front door of the clinic, I see another New Guinean man. This guy is loitering on the sidewalk and glancing around in a nervous sort of way. He's got a short beard and is wearing a brightly colored shirt, but he seems to be watching me witha litde too much interest. Suddenly I feel pretty uptight. So instead of looking directly at him, I hurry past and go straight into the clinic, practically running it seems. Once Im inside, I can feel my heart pounding, and although its probably just my imagination, I feel that I've just escaped some sort of great peril.
    “Missis Chase?” says a male voice behind me. I turn around, expecting to see the friendly taxi driver. Perhaps I left something in his car. But instead it's the man in the bright shirt-the one I've just escaped from. I frown at him.
    “I'm sorry. Are you Missis Chase?”
    “Yes,” I say cautiously.
    “I am Peter Sampala. I am a friend of Lydia Obuti. She told me to meet you here.”
    “Oh,” I say in relief. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run from you like that.”
    “No,” he says in a serious tone. “That is good. You should not talk to strangers.”
    I smile. “Yes, I know that.”
    He looks somewhat relieved but still a bit uneasy. I'm afraid I offended him when I all but ran away from him screaming for help. Still, he seems to understand.
    “Have you been here before?” I ask.
    He shakes his head. “No. Lydia works here sometimes, and I have picked her up after, but I have not been inside.”
    “Halh” szys
one of the nurses that I met yesterday. “Can I help you:
    “This is Peter Sampala,” I say, glad that I can remember his lastname and hoping I pronounced it correctly. “Lydia Obuti asked me to come-”
    “I know. I know,” she interrupts. “You are to talk to patients.” She nods in the direction where someone is yelling. It sounds like the person is calling for help. “I am very busy. You will have to find your own way today.”
    “Oh, that's okay,” I start to say, but she is already heading down the hall. I glance back to Peter, who is looking even more uneasy now. “Are you ready?”
    He nods, but I can tell by the way he's looking