These are my brothers writings. I love how he writes so no point re-inventing the wheel! Dwight also took some fab photos and my contribution is the following You Tube clips: 

Well what a first day in PNG. Scott and I arrived about 5 am on a 5 hour flight from manilla. Needless to say we could have done with more sleep.  But we were back in PNG for the first time in 40 years and excited to be there.

An amusing immigration and customs transpired and then we made our way to a fancy hotel near the airport where we had a lovely coffee before being picked up by our guide, kevin, who took us to the Australian war graves cemetery at the start of the kokada trail and the into the dreaded port moresby. I have to say it was not the hell on earth the tour books have you believe the the razor wire and tall fences gave some sense of the environment we had entered. The guards with very large shot guns at the hotel set an early scene. We went to a craft market where saw some good local art before driving through town. Not much to see but a nice beach. The guide proceeded to tell us the Enga people were some of the worst in moresby. We then went to the museum to see lots of very interesting local artefacts and then onto Parliament House which was great and a bit of an oasis in an otherwise poor and chaotic town. We then had a few hours to kill at Pom waiting for the big wigs to show.

An uneventful flight to mt Hagen, the capital of the highlands in a very old plane was wonderful once we broke through the clouds and could see the fertile valley surrounded by mountains. It truly looked beautiful and could see the crops grown around traditional bush dwellings.

Then the fun started. From the plane we could see a large banner of the BU of PNG and a groups of girls brigade girls in uniforms.  Now Hagen is a small airport but the two baptist fish heads and Scott and I were ushered not into the terminal but to the side to be greeted  by a group of local baptists, many who knew tony. So we were mobbed with hugs and hand shakes after we had followed the marching girls brigade in step. We were presented with knitted lays? Which we wore with pride even though we had no warning to the greeting or the events to follow.

From the airport strait to the local baptist church.  Still in our 30 something hours and two flights clothes designed to look scruffy in port moresby we, after lots of hugs and handshakes had a church service. And this was not ordinary baptist affair.  It included a song written for the arrival of       Neville and tony, which we will send the video, traditional dancing from the girls brigade again and a impressive message from Neville. Tony then said a few words and we could tell the real joy and delight from the locals that he was back. It was clear he was loved and well regarded in his time, as we can only assume margaret was as well. They also seemed especially pleased to see Scott who a few of the lumusa clan clearly remembered but struggled with pickaninny number two that some how was called dot. We could not of have had a more warm welcome and lots more hand shakes and hugs followed.  Lex it was like Birmingham but 20 times bigger.  We are told today will be even bigger at baiyer river, where Scott was born.  Oh did I mention that?  He did, about 50 times but the locals all seemed to love that and it seemed to save us a bag search at customs.   Today we are told there might be thousands and a pig feast. Nice to travel with royalty of sorts.

After church we finally showered and I was finally able to dress a little better and then had a nice meal with about 50 of the group. We were on the reserved table for the fish heads but it was very warm and welcoming.  The meal was simple but very satisfying.

So that was day 1. Day two is just starting after a good ish night sleep and needless to say we are excited about what is to come and finally getting back to lumusa tomorrow.

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Well if day 1 was big then day two was one for the most memorable of all times for the cupit boys while we think tony cupit gets this sort of treatment often.  

We started in the mission compound in hagen and were driven into town for some supplies for our trip and to get neville some prescription drugs. Our first view of the town as it was dark last night when we arrived. Hagen is clearly a rough old place, people everywhere, dirty and rundown. It makes moresby look quite nice. But there was a good vibe and lots of street sellers and general hustle and bustle. 

Amazingly in the grocery store we ran into the ex maf pilot we met the day before in the POM airport. The food choices were limited and the mobile phone top up the busiest. The check out girl queried if I really wanted the coco pops as they were 30k or about 15 dollars. Of course we said yes and are looking forward to tasting. 

We then had to stand around as the driver disappeared but it was good to watch the world at work in the gritty town. Some of the characters looked tough but I reassured scotty, did I mention I was born here, that we would be ok. 

Finally we left for baiyer, scheduled for 9.30 but about 11. I am told that is png time.  The drive was amazing in the back of a ten seater land cruiser with wonderful views of the not to distant mountains. We saw many little bamboo round houses that were the traditional home and thus clear that many still lived that way. As we climbed up into the mountains the views became more stunning and neville was not enjoying some of the steep decents sitting in the front.  

After about 3 hours we finally drove into bayier river and virtually the first thing we saw was the tinsley hospital.  You will never guess who was born there. But not time for tourism, it was strait to the baptist hq. I kid you not as we drove into a large grass field there must have been about 800 people, all lined up in rows of four. Men first in white shirts, women in several different matching uniforms of green, purple and yellow. These were the local pastors and baptist women's groups. As we drove in the started marching to local chants. Impossible to describe but sounding a bit like a war chant in low drawn out tones. The groups proceeded to march around the field as we disembarked. So quite the welcome and not something the cupit brothers were expecting.  Very moving. 

We than had a quick rest stop and pineapple inside while the masses waited in the sun. We were then marched up the main road, well the only road, escorted by the girls brigade on a left left left right left pace. The march was about 300 yards to another large field where a raised decorated platform stood at the end. We were escorted to the platform where we about 20 seats were placed but with four blue ones dead centre for us. Then the service began with the 800 following us in chanting followed by more locals swelling the ranks to some 2000 or more. 

I have to say it was hard to follow much of the next three hours, being mostly in enga or pigeon but the highlights were the girls brigade singing the national anthem and western highlands anthem, a special song for the special guests, ok neville and dad, half way through nevilles sermon a disturbance on the side of the road where about 25 per cent of the crowd bolted to see what was going on.  I joke not it was like shots had been fired and people scurried away but all in one direction.  We had no clue what was happening and neville soldiered on while absolutely no one listened. It later turned out two women were fighting over a man. We never found out who won and the crowd settled down and most returned to their seats on the lawn. Varying levels of the png baptists fish heads all spoke in rank, seemingly a thing here, but most impressive was tony cupit who spoke in enga, something that delighted the crowd. I get the sense that very few white men speak it, if any. 

One other important note was sister K gave a speech where margaret was described as a hero. 

To our not quite surprise both cupit brothers were asked to say a few words to the assembled thousands.  Scotty got a big cheer for pointing out he was born here and I confused the translator we past and future tense about how long people had been worshipping in compton. 

So the service finally ended, although the crowed had started to drift off after the second hour and we had to face a line up of some 200 people with lots of hand shakes and hugs. A few in the crowd remembered us as little boys and seemed very pleased to see us. 

With the official duties ended we went back to the hostel we were billeted at for some pig, which we watched being carried up whole and more wonderful pineapple. 

That pretty much ended an emotional and crazy day and I am sure I missed something. Scott and I were both sad our wives were not here as we think they would have loved it. It was early to bed for the tired and still jet lagged campers. 

DC

The next day… 

While there is no way my words can capture what we have seen and experienced I will try and recap what has been another amazing day in PNG.

We woke in sister K's dorm rooms, usually reserved for mid wife training program she runs for bush mothers. Apparently they will give birth in the bush alone so a 4 week course in child birth is all the only medical attention they can expect before the event. A sobering thought having lived second hand but in the same room twice in the last 3 years to a live birth. How privileged we are to have a modern hospital a few minutes drive away.  

So on that note we set of to the tinsley hospital where scottie came into the world. Did you know he was born here? Compared to today's standards it was not much but it was pretty surreal to go into the room where it all began having been amused by the story in dad's book. No wonder it was decided to have me in australia. That special room is now an office with no evidence of the greatness the room witnessed. As seems to happen in these parts, like magic someone with a key emerged to let us in and then gave us the tour. Let's just say none of the readers would fancy any recovery time in the new wing.  We then wandered around baiyer to see an old house the cupits lived in briefly and were show a cassawary, kept in a somewhat depressingly in a  bamboo cage.  

They had said the road to lumusa was good now. Neville might disagree strongly. Parts are ok but parts 4x4 tracks people would pay good money for. The road made yesterday look like a cruise on the freeway.  The adventure was compounded by the several extras we seemed to pick up, another theme, such that with bags it was pretty cramped in the ten seater land cruiser.  

To say the drive was an a adventure would be under stating it. Apart for the deep muddy ruts, other highlights included a fallen tree which looked questionable if we would fit under, we did, as neville ducked in the front seat, a massive gorge from baiyer to lumusa, several slightly worrying bridges and the final bridge being stopped by about 10 local men. Now I have not told you that the standard kit in these parts includes a machete or axe of which all ten possessed along with a scary look. After a heated debate which we could not follow it turned out someone had taken to planks off the bridge and we could not cross the deep fast flowing gorge. The nice young men offered to put some logs on for us, which they did on one tires track.  The other tire the driver had to keep his wheel on the one inch metal supports. As you might imagine no one fancied this but in true missionary spirit we inched over the bridge slowly. Now the keen observer will not there was no chance of falling into the gorge but it did not feel like that. The png ladies broke into amazing grace as we crossed and  the polite young men then got a small fee.  This writer wondered if that was a toll but the locals seemed happy just to cross. 

It is worth noting that due to tribal fighting in recent years parts of the area have been closed, including the lumusa airstrip so the 5 minute flight from baiyer was not an option.  We were later told that we were the first whites in the area for about 4 years. The bridge apparently was closed at times to stop access when the fighting was going on. It is now over but things are not quite settled and reconciliation is ongoing. 

So we were now on the lumusa side, an 8 mile plateau on top of the most scenic country I think I have ever seen. As we got closer we could sense the excitement, especially when one old lady we passed called out cupitideeeee in the enga high pitch. They knew we were coming. 

As we neared there were petals on the road and flower arrangements on posts signalling our arrival but were somewhat concerned to drive past sister k's house that had been burnt down in the fighting along with some other buildings. 

So here we were, the place the cupit's lived for seven years. Getting here now made scott and I marvel at our parents arriving 45 years ago to no restaurants, electricity or running water. Such a remote paradise. 

We drove past the somewhat rundown old house we lived in and which I did remember, possibly only from photographs, and then did a quick drive on the disused airport. As with yesterday there was no time for tourism and strait into another baptist meeting. 

So exiting the truck we were greeted by a smalls group but the older ones who knew dad seemed very pleased to see him. We were all greeted warmly with many handshakes and hugs. We meet our old house boy and his wife, now looking very old.  So again a quick refreshment stop and onto the show. 

The service or ceremony, not sure which best describes it, was on a slightly rickety stage and followed a similar theme to yesterday. Not as many people as lumusa is much smaller and what seemed a lot further removed from the west. Highlights included a man dressed in traditional warrior dress, who later presented his traditional axe to tony and which I have now claimed as it won't fit in anyone else's bag, dad again impressing the crowd in enga, neville leaving half way through the service due to been very worried about getting back on the road, more songs written for our arrival, including a line for scott and I, presentations on billums for each of us. Again many spoke, some for too long, but it was great to be back home and enjoying the sights. As the service finished we had lots of greetings, hugs and warm welcome. One of the more amusing was a very very old stooped down blind man who gave a great hug to dad while crying.  We were later told he asked if you are cupit or Thompson. 

We then had another pig feast while children and dogs hovered around.  The kids in particular were very excited about our arrival and followed us everywhere. If no whites had been here for four years we figured most had not see our kind before. The kids and several others followed us to the old house where we had a good look but could not get in as the guy who lived in it was away. Scott stirred up the kids who then got told off by the adults for making to much noise. 

Finally we had some time to ourselves and dad and I walked to the end of the airstrip where the views were magical with multiple mountain ranges covered in mist. Dad then met some old fella who remembered him and they had a chat, which usually means while hugging or at least holding hands.  

We then returned to the house we were billeted in, which was the hollands old house that was in slightly better shape than our old one but did not have running water and electricity only when the generator was on. 

Dinner of rice, vegetable and canned meat was basic but warmly received. We then sat around the family who hosted us, taimya and tangelye and their son, his wife and a few other hangers on. 

It was good to speak to alexia that night. While not much has made it to lumusa but you can get a cell signal better than in my own home. 

So that was the day, pretty emotional but slightly sad for me that the few vague memories I have were not quite as I had them in my mind. Still wonderful to be back and put lumusa firmly in my mind. The people could not be friendlier and generous with the little they have. Funnily this part seems very fertile and the people seem well nourished.

Some other general observations

- the dress here is mostly cheap western clothes, lot with Australian rugby team shirts, or rip off copies.

- the greeting, especially for tony were warm and welcome and as said above involved lots of hugging and hand shakes

- the houses are kept neat and tidy, even the bush ones but little is bad especially in hagen and to a lesser extent baiyer

- pigs roam freely

- the men look scary, especially with the machetes but when they smile or shake you hand they have beaming smiles. 

- the kids are adorable, shy but with a little encouragement are friendly and your new best mate. 

- scott can sleep at the drop of a hat. 

Anyway enough for now. Apologies for the typos and errors but doing this on a blackberry is not easy.

Dwight's final notes: 

This will probably be the last update. Dad and I now sit in moresby airport having missed our connecting flight to madang while scott sits in the international terminal about to catch his flight to start his honeymoon. He is very excited to see Mrs cupit soon, as are we.  

Yesterday we woke up in the beautiful lumusa and the coco pops were beautiful. It was a delight to see the surrounding hills after a good nights sleep. Mapusiya, whom scott and I shared a room with was up early and praying. Tony, in his own room, slept in. 

After breakfast we walked to the market. There was a group of about 20 people hanging around outside the gate at the house. Apparently they were our tribe, the Maningiwa

People, who wanted to walk with us to the market to show that we were their people, something they were proud of. The machetes added to the experience. 

Our arrival in the market caused quite a stir. Clearly three white men don't show up often, especially so good looking. The market choices were not wonderful, some fruit, some chickens, coffee and plenty of cheap clothes, but the vibe was great. We tried to buy a few things but were largely surrounded by the locals. Father did his best enga which seemed to bring great delight and surprise. It was quite an experience and scotts video will show us completely circled with rows three to four deep wanting to see the white men. Most amusing was when scott gave some coins to one of our tribe, koeya, who said he played with scott as a boy, to buy something for him. We never saw the coins or the produce again. The market and the walk to and from it was a wonderful experience in enga life and we felt like rock stars in a small way. We had to hug a few and shake many hands. 

Koeya, still with our coins, was the deputy principal at the local primary school and wanted to show us the school. Apparently the school was also burnt down in the tribal fighting but it did not look that new to me. Somewhat strangely the deputy principal showed us the empty class rooms while the kids followed us around. We later found out the kids had the day off, except the grade 8 who had exams. Some of the senior buofpng staff had said getting the teachers to teach is a problem in these remote parts and we wondered why the principal and his deputy were showing us around. 

We made it back to the house in time for a quick walk down the airstrip one last time, followed by three little boys, and to buy a few things at the local trade store run by the son of the man who hosted us. Available to buy were coke, salt, maggie noodles, a knife, cooking oil and tinned fish. Still I think lexi could have cooked up something special. 

I asked what the sign on the door was for and it was someone selling a chicken.

So that was the end of the lumusa expedition. Not quite enough but certainly glad we pushed dad for an extra night as had we have to leave with neville the day before I would have been distraught. It was truly wonderful going back, exciting and  overwhelming. As tourists we could not have had nearly as good a time as the baptist connections and those who still remember and love mum and dad made it a joy to be there. Otherwise it would be impossible to do as we did.   It felt like part of us, perhaps for me mostly through the stories and folk law but scottie remembered more of it and loved being on his land.  

So sadly we piled into the troop carrier.  I was stuck in the back with someone on my foot but thankfully two got off at the other end of lumusa, with an old fashioned  typewriter.  We headed back to hagen via baiyer. The scenery was just as spectacular and we wondered when we would be back. Soon I hope. 

So if you think the religious stuff was over you were wrong, sister kay, kuku and other ladies put lunch, our second for the day, on at baiyer, along with speeches, songs, prayers and giving us at least 3 billums each. Margie C got another big wrap, apparently she is a big hit with these godly ladies and all our wives were thanked for letting us come. A sentiment  we shared. I promised they would come next time. 

The road back to hagen was much less eventful bit we notice how much less attractive the landscape and especially the human settlement was closer to hagen. 

We arrived safe, well and uplifted and were delighted to have the mission flat to just the three of us.  The first time we had been alone for days. 

Dinner followed at the png Baptist union hq where our second holy roller event of the day transpired. After a few songs, some in pigeon, david a blind chap from lumusa gave his testimony in word and song. We trembled about being asked for ours but got away with our third speech each over the last few days and the food came.    

Soon after we dispersed and went to the flat. What a few days.