2nd Hand Shops in a 3rd World Country

Shopping in a third world country is an experience unlike any other shopping trip I have taken part in.  There are very few shops where one can purchase new clothing in Port Moresby.  Those that do exist seem to just stock the very, very basics.  RH, a grocery store, carries basic undergarments and plain t-shirts.  Not a real shopping experience like I have become accustomed to in the sprawling shopping centers and towering malls of the United States.  Anne, a high school teacher at POMIS, has become addicted to the second hand shops here in Moresby.  If nothing else it is a true look into PNG culture here in the capitol city.  She invited me along on Saturday morning; I had no idea what I was truly in for.

As I walked into the store a stench shocked my nose immediately.  Masses of locals piled into a crammed metal building with no windows or air conditioning, not even a fan, means excessive sweating.  Without running water, let alone hot running water, in most homes here, hygiene is not the best.  It is surprising how quickly ones senses are able to adjust.  I do a quick once over of the store.  It is organized just like a Goodwill back home - bins brimming with a hodge-podge of items, like articles of clothing organized together on racks, handwritten price tags dangling from clothing tags.  I wandered the racks searching for nothing in particular.  Anne explained that the clothing (keep in my it's all second hand) is actually vaccum packed and imported from Australia.  All of the clothing is wrinkled as such is the case.  Much of what I found was rubbish by Western World standards - holes, stains, seriously discolored; but, I was amazed at what I did find!  Volcom, Roxy, Quicksilver, and a few Australian based surf brands hung amidst the racks of tattered clothing.  I was shocked.  I left store number one with a Roxy dress, and two tank tops, but not without looks from the PNG locals. 

I felt like I was in a fish bowl.  A little girl pointed at me and yanked feverishly at their mother's skirt until she took notice of the white girl shopping near them.  A couple of teenage girls gave me the odd look, giving the impression of questioning why an ex-pat who is seemingly wealthy, or at least well off in comparison to them, would be shopping in a second hand shop.  One older woman actually approached me and in a mix of English and Pidgin whispered, "We don't see many ex-pats in here.  Welcome." 

While in the shop, we had to wait for an argument to dissipate before we could leave.  A woman, seemingly out of nowhere, began yelling and screaming loudly at the security guard manning the front door - yes there is security even at second hand shops in Port Moresby.  Anne and I were fairly confused and apparently is was written across our faces.  A woman explains to us that the guard had apparently accused this regular customer of stealing from the store.  She stuck by her story of having gone to another shop first.  The woman translating the event to us seemed to believe the accused as opposed to the guard.

We arrive at the next store of the outing and parked along a blocked off street.  Stepping out of the car, I was met with looks and smiles immediately.  There was a young man in his early twenties, maybe, peddling pirated DVDS out front and an older grandfatherly gentleman selling what looked to be original artwork splayed across dingy cardboard boxes flattened to make a sort of carpet to protect the paintings from the dirty walkway.  Looking down at my feet to see where it is I am about to step, I pull back as I almost step into a stream of blood red liquid pouring into the drain.  It wasn't the blood it looked like at first glance.  People chewing buai (pronounced BOO-EYE), or beetle nut, must spit so often the water in the gutters is brick red.  The grandfatherly artist gives me a toothy, red smile with the few teeth that haven't been decayed or fallen out due to his buai habit.

This second store had two concrete floors stained with buai spit splatters from before all of the "No Buai!  No Spitting" campaign began a couple of years back.  It was much bigger and much busier and much, much hotter.  I came across many familiar brands and twice as many unfamiliar.  I found a black satin cocktail dress with golden Chinese dragons embroidered on it and split clear up the middle of my thigh for an Asian-themed cocktail party toward the end of next month that will be held at the Yacht Club.  I walked away with a skirt and two more summery dresses from store number two.  Waiting in line, I realized how much quieter and more patient people from PNG are than Westerners in general, but more specifically us Americans.  There wasn't that loud buzz that spreads when lines get busy at Target (oh how I miss Target) and there were an equivalent amount people qued in this crowded building.  Everyone was talking, but it was barely audible.  We waited in line for nearly twenty minutes to pay for our new-to-us clothing and to have our hangers tossed into the growing mountain behind the desk being used as a cashier's station. 

My 2nd Hand Finds!

I ended the day with three sun dresses - one Roxy with the tags on, a cocktail dress, a skirt, and two tank tops.  I spent a whopping 9 Kina, 30 Toya - $3.84.  What was even more exciting was getting out of the ex-pat community for a few hours and into the local hustle and bustle.

(Jill and Ms. BeVier you would have loved it!)