Exodus—and influx in PNG

Prom PERCY CHATTERTON, in Port Moresby Furniture removal men in Port Moresby are fiat out packing whole homesful of furniture for shipment to Australia. Vets have been kept busy providing euthanasia for no-longer-wanted pets, until Dr Everingham’s announcement of more liberal quarantine regulations put an end to the necessity for this slaughter. The siren voices of Queens land’s estate agents seek to lure departing expatriates to new elysia on the Gold Coast, and incidentally provide the Papua New Guinea Post- Courier with some very acceptable advertisement revenue.

How serious is the expatriate exodus from Papua New Guinea?

It is difficult to say. Some of those going are natural peripatetics —academics using Papua New Guineas university as a stepping stone to higher things for example. Others are lower level public servants who would soon become redundant anyway. Others are businessmen, like the one who so guilelessly explained to an ABC interviewer that he was leaving because there was no longer a quick dollar to be made here.

Undoubtedly we are losing a few that we can ill spare—Depart ment of Lands Director Don Grove for example. But I get the impression that most of those who really like the place are hanging on. One old friend of mine who “went finish” several years ago has now come back, and his wife and daughter will be returning in a few weeks’ time. And that, I think, points up a trend. Many expatriates will undoubtedly pull out as the day of independence draws near.

But others will come, attracted by the very aspects of the situation which has started the exodus.

Perhaps there will be fewer from race-conscious Australia and more from places like Scandinavia, Canada and New Zealand. Paguineans are a very pragmatic people. They will welcome those from overseas who have a real contribution to make to this country’s welfare. But, however much the RSL may think that there should be, there will be no sentimental preference for Australians as such; in fact there may even be some prejudice against them as the former “colonialists”.

In the meantime, the United Party’s prophets of doom are having a field day. Their cries of “Woe, woe” fill the air. But Finance Minister Julius Chan, a very level-headed young man with a first-rate permanent departmental head at his elbow, is keeping his cool.

“Sure,” he says, “people are going.” And, “Sure there’s an economic slow down”. “Things will get worse before they get better,” he adds with cheery pessimism.

He’s probably right, too! Independence Day will have to come and go before the tide turns. Which is a good argument for bringing it on as soon as possible.

But as yet the Port Moresby suburb of Boroko still looks as much like a prosperous Sydney suburb as it ever did. One can drive through its quiet streets without seeing any vacant houses or neglected, over grown gardens. Expatriate children still ride their bicycles on the foot paths and play on the well-kept lawns. The hum of Chimbu-owned and operated motor mowers is as soporific as ever on the hot afternoon air.

Well-polished cars still stand in the car ports, or are parked in serried ranks outside houses where parties are in progress. And in the city’s main stores a major part of the display space is still monopolised by luxury goods which only expatriates can afford to buy.

If a debacle is impending, it is still hiding coyly round the corner.