Inside the Crocodile by Trish Nicholson

Author:Trish Nicholson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784626150
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd

20

A counterpart, a prize, and a christening

“Keeping my fingers crossed. If my counterpart’s appointment doesn’t work out, there is not enough time to train someone else.”

I’ve never been much good at maths, but even I could work out that two steps forward and one step back still left me one pace ahead. I depended on it. Achieving those steps, and accepting the slipping backwards, was gradually replacing frustration with simple fatigue. Uncertainty and ambiguity surrounding people and events would remain a constant in my PNG life, but it was a positive weariness I felt at the end of each day: a bone tiredness which could usually be lifted by a romp along the beach with Frisbee.

One of those small advances was the arrival of my counterpart, Wilfred. Inevitably there were delays, but I had managed (by repeatedly lying about his imminent arrival) to hold on to a project house for him, and eventually he did appear.

Wilfred was in his late-twenties and had worked as a school teacher before returning to university to complete his degree. He was articulate and confident. Although I had supported his appointment, I left the decision to the rest of the selection committee because they would be working with Wilfred after I had gone. My part was to help him to grow into the job.

He had expected his own office. I could have pointed out the need for him to learn the skills required before enjoying the stage-craft of the ‘big-man’, but I avoided this first challenge to a strong young ego by the simple fact that there was not a spare room in the provincial offices. With a wry smile I wondered, silently, how he would have reacted to that hot, dusty corner piled high with old ledgers – the location to which Conrad and I had almost been relegated. He would have his own office in our new premises when they were ready.

The SDU building was slowly taking shape. Site preparation was complete and I did a proprietary walk-about most mornings, if only to show the politicians they would have a fight on their hands if they tried to grab it. Construction materials had been requisitioned and, in a fit of optimism (and opportunism while the funds were there), I had ordered furniture and equipment.

People at the Works Department were good natured about my frequent following-up-on-progress visits, usually greeting me with a mug of coffee – a stalling technique which at least gave them thinking time. I didn’t ask if the Premier’s Mr Fixit made the same enquiries. It had taken a year for the materials to be assembled for the vocational training college in Telefomin – it should be easier in Vanimo but ‘should’ was irrelevant. It wasn’t only hap tumora attitude: supply and freight could be erratic, even if funds were available.

In the meantime, Wilfred had a large desk and a new chair – more than I started with but I knew better than to say so – placed across the room from mine.

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