When the call came, I wasn’t entirely surprised. Both the management in our Bangkok region and my Director were adamant I step in to run an emergency operation in Papua New Guinea (PNG). The urgency in their voices was clear: I was one of the few who could handle it—and more importantly, one of the few who was available.
The situation in PNG was dire. The operation had ground to a halt before it even began. Five out of six international team members had been struck down by dengue fever, which was spreading rapidly in the capital. The stakes were high, and the instructions were simple:
- Fly out tomorrow.
- Avoid contracting dengue fever (or I wouldn’t be allowed back).
- Deliver the operation as soon as possible.
This was no small task. The agency had no permanent presence in PNG and was responding to an urgent request from donors and the Resident Coordinator to establish a temporary operation.
Landing in Chaos
I arrived in PNG and was greeted by the last international staff member still standing—alongside an armed escort of four men carrying semiautomatic rifles. It quickly became clear this was unlike any other operation I’d been a part of.
We drove to what would be our makeshift office: a hotel conference room overlooking a picturesque beach just across the road. It looked deceptively serene, but I was sternly warned by security not to venture beyond the hotel’s entrance without an armed escort. The rules were clear: no trips to the beach, no solo excursions within 50 meters.
PNG felt like the Wild West. Daytime robberies were rampant, and danger lurked everywhere. Outside the capital, nearly everyone carried a machete—children as young as seven wielded them, the blade lengths growing with their age.
Into the Mountains
Our operational area was deep in the mountains, a region even more lawless than the capital. Strict laws forbade bringing alcohol into these parts, and every car was thoroughly searched. The reasoning was chillingly simple: alcohol would only fuel the violence. Villages were frequently burned, and people were hacked to death in brutal conflicts. The tension was palpable, amplified by widespread betel nut chewing, a stimulant consumed from an early age.
For seven months, we pushed through these challenges. We distributed food to remote mountain communities and hundreds of islands affected by typhoons, droughts, and subsequent floods. It was grueling but rewarding work, and by the time we wrapped up, we had made a tangible difference.
A Bittersweet End
As Christmas approached, I was ready for a break. I applied for a month off and was counting down the days to return to Rome. Four weeks remained, but when I checked in with my boss, his response caught me off guard:
“No need to come back. There’s nothing to do right now.”
This journey was one of the most intense of my career. PNG was a stark reminder of the complexities of humanitarian work—equal parts challenging, dangerous, and profoundly meaningful.