Another time… another place
As is the way of things… last week’s tsunami threat has now gone the way of all good editorial press… filed safely away in newsroom archives across the country for some possible future use. The memory of the potential disaster is now largely gone from the collective consciousness of the population at large. By mid week the dust had well and truly settled on it… and the Coral Sea was once again nothing more than a tranquil pond!
But… prompted by the events of last week… memories of another time another place… have come rolling back to me. Perhaps it was the magic of my childhood years spent with my family in the highlands of Papua New Guinea… along with my deep empathy for these people… that prompted the deep and lasting response to the devastating tsunami which struck the northern coast of that country in the early evening of Friday 17th July 1998.
aerial view -Sissano Lagoon PNG
From all reports… the night the sea rose up was “unremarkable” really. A warm and balmy breeze blew gently in from the Bismarck Sea as families gathered on the beach in the cool of the evening. Four villages in total lined the sand spit which divided the Sissano Lagoon from the sea. It was here… along this stretch of palm fringed beach… that the people lived and played… fished from the lagoon and swam in the sea. It was an idyllic life… remote from the troubles of the world.
Then… shortly before 7pm… what sounded like the roar of a jet aircraft filled the air… and many of the villagers in their wonder and confusion ran down to the water’s edge to see what it was. Expecting to see an aeroplane in trouble they could not have known that the noise they were hearing was the sound made by the first of four 10 metre waves generated from an undersea earthquake measuring 7.1 on the richter scale just 14 miles offshore. In less than one minute the first wave was upon them. The three successive waves took just 18 minutes in total to reach the shore. And then there was nothing. The sea returned to calm. The stars shone brightly as before.
But nothing was the same… or would be again. In the space of just 20 minutes… in excess of 10,000 people were displaced… homes destroyed… men women and children violently washed up by the impact of the waves into the trees and swamp surrounding the lagoon. 3,000 people died that night (most of them babies and children). Those who were unable to outrun the waves… or climb a coconut palm to safety… drowned in the lagoon.
Today… the lagoon has recovered. And so.. for the most part… have the people. Although they still fish off the beach and play along the shores of Sissano Lagoon just as before… no-one lives there now. Homes have been rebuilt up to 15 kilometres inland.
But the saddest memory of Sissano Lagoon… is the loss of a whole generation of children. Still… the mother’s weep.
Lost Babies of Sissano Lagoon - Jean Burman 1998
(I painted this back in 1998 as the disaster unfolded. I have… from time to time over the years… felt that improvements could be made… but somehow… I have never had the heart to change it… or to part with it!)
THE LOST BABIES OF SISSANO LAGOON
The babies have all gone now
from this stretch of palm fringed beach
Their lives snatched from her loving arms
and flung far from their reach…
She weeps in silence at the loss
of what had been before
A mother’s silent vigil kept
Along that lonely shore…
She seeks the children born to her
from safe within her womb
and bows her head to gently weep
For the Little Lost Babies of the Lagoon.
- artwork & content copyright Jean Burman 2007
All comments most welcome!
April 13th, 2007 at 7:21 am
A beautiful poem Jean…beautiful sentiment. Your painting should not be touched or “improved”, it conveys the very essence of the emotion and that is what you were painting! To lose so many members of family and friends would be devastating. I would be feeling lost and afraid and all alone too!
April 13th, 2007 at 10:43 am
Thanks for stopping by Jools! No doubt you have that same sense of connection to PNG as I do. It was a magical place to grow up… and holds some wonderful memories for me. Such a shame that much of PNG is so dangerous now. It’s a different world to what I knew back then… but I have read where there are still pockets of people and places that remain as they always were.
What touched me about this tragedy was the sense of innocence. They were lambs to the slaughter… waiting wondering what that noise was. By then… it was already too late.
April 13th, 2007 at 12:42 pm
Their story will be told and remembered and retold, others will learn. It is mostly thu tragedy and “hard times” that people bond together. But, these people already live a close existence as a community - what is left of it, the people. It shows how fragile life can be and how we cannot drop our bundle when our ideals are challenged or simply destroyed - if you don’t “go” on……..you don’t go on!
In any which way you look at it - wether you are a victim of extreme weather or your health falls apart…..you have to change your perspective, the way you live or where you live.
April 13th, 2007 at 2:07 pm
Jools… how profound that is. I needed to hear those words today! Thank you. Picking up my bundle now… and diving for the paintbox! LOL Thank you friend…
April 13th, 2007 at 6:17 pm
Go for it Jean!!!!
April 14th, 2007 at 6:36 am
Your account, Jean, is incredibly moving, and both your painting and poem carry with them a visceral punch, as well as manifesting the depth of your emotional response and intelligence. This is what genuine art is all about. It occurred to me that incorporating the words of the poem somehow into the painting, in your handwriting, could be very powerful!
April 14th, 2007 at 1:23 pm
Thank you John. I guess in an ideal “art” world there would be the hope that every artist, upon lifting a brush, would first have something heartfelt to say about the subject. But the opportunities (meaningful subjects) don’t always present themselves as compellingly as this one did (for me)!
But when the idea simply won’t be silent… (and when the heart wishes hard enough for it to be so)… even the absence of the necessary technical skills to “express it” will be no deterrent… (hence the subsequent temptation for my head to tamper with my heart’s work! LOL) But sometimes the artist has to just get out of the way… and let the painting do the talking!
I have dabbled over the years with incorporating poetry into paintings… and quite like the idea. Some paintings really lend themselves, I think.
Thanks again for commenting