An article by Monica Wehner explores the nature of memory, especially through the stories and memories of people who were expatriates in Rabaul, Papua New Guinea. One man, upon returning to Papua New Guinea after years of absence, remembered “the smell of mustard—the pepper stick they dip in the line when they chew buai.” He says, “Even though I hadn’t smelt that smell for twenty years. It was an instant recognition of what it was. And the pourri pourri leaves they use for their dances and stuff. A lot of the villagers have it growing nearby and you smell it on the wind.” But while his body and its senses betrayed a physical memory of the place and its habits, he felt it was a place he did not recognize. “Even though you could see the signs and see the bits of buildings that you recognized, there was no recognition of this being the same place as the old Rabaul… I had all these memories of enjoyment. And when I got here they were all gone.” * Diane Ackerman, as quoted by Wehner: “The latest findings in physiology suggest that the mind doesn’t really dwell in the brain but travels the whole body in caravans of hormone and enzymes, busily making sense of the compound wonders we catalogue as touch, taste, smell, hearing, vision.” * I am standing in Macau, missing something. I don’t know what. I’m leaving China in a couple weeks. Moving on to the next thing. That’s what youth is for, isn’t it? Collecting experiences to yourself, testing different versions of who you can be. Staving off loneliness, meeting and loving new people. Leaving them.
WHEN I GOT HERE, THEY WERE ALL GONE | 61