I first wrote this story in early 2008 just a week or two after arriving in Papua New Guinea.
We’ve been to town twice now, and on our second trip we stopped at a large market. Walking past the booths I found some belts. I’d forgotten to pack one, and thought this was a great chance to practice some language. So I asked for a belt.
Too short. I asked for a big belt. Not quite long enough. I specified that I was looking for a long belt, you know, a man’s belt. The seller smiled and patiently produced another belt. No luck.
Together we went through all of his belts and those on his neighbor’s table. By this time we had drawn a small crowd of very friendly people. I could tell they were friendly because all of them were smiling. Some were even laughing.
Just as the party was getting started, one of the men suggested that I try Kmart. This sounded like a great idea, so off we went.
A short drive later, we pulled up in front of Kmart. “The sign actually reads “K” [remainder of the town] MART. The owner thought that if he made the remaining letters in the name of the town as small as he could, that it might one day attract some big beltless American looking for a blue-light special.”
Having located the belts behind a counter at the back of the store, I asked a nice young lady for assistance. She smiled and then we began to recreate the same scene from the market. But after about 5 belts she stopped, and just stood there, belt in hand, shaking her head from side to side. “You new here?” she asked.
Still shaking her head she looks from the belt in her hand to my somewhat ample waist and says, “You come back next month belt fit you.”
I’ll be sure to let you know next month if “belt fit me”.