The Inspiring Life of Retired Brigadier General Ted Diro: From Humble Beginnings to National Icon

Retired Brigadier General Ted Diro’s life story is a testament to perseverance, leadership, and patriotism. From his humble beginnings in Boku village, Rigo District, to becoming the first Papua New Guinean Commander of the Papua New Guinea Defence Force, his journey is one of extraordinary courage and resilience.

A Childhood Forged in Hardship

Born in Boku village, Rigo District, in 1943, Ted Diro’s early life was shaped by his surroundings. His village, nestled in the foothills of the Owen Stanley Range, was known as a “fighter’s village” due to frequent conflicts with neighbouring tribes. His father was a policeman from Boku Inland, while his mother was from Aroma. The village’s strategic location made it the first point of contact when trouble arose from the west or north.

Growing up in such an environment instilled in Diro a strong sense of duty and responsibility. "Village norms and village life led me into more areas of defence and security. And that was one of the fundamental interests I had in joining the army," he recalled.

However, education was a privilege that was hard to come by in his inland village. His quest for learning led him to Port Moresby, where he faced rejection from several schools due to his lack of formal education. "I searched around everywhere and I couldn't find any. They said he doesn't speak English," Diro recounted. Despite these setbacks, his determination remained strong.

A Chance Encounter and Educational Breakthrough

His persistence eventually caught the attention of Mrs. Willis, the headmistress at Kilakila Area School. "She looked out the window and saw me watering her garden, flower garden, early in the morning," he remembered. Mrs. Willis’s kindness was instrumental in his educational journey. "She said, I don't care whether he had any schooling or not, I'm going to take him on board," Diro said, his voice filled with gratitude.

Under her guidance, Diro excelled academically. However, finding accommodation and support was an ongoing challenge. He eventually earned a place at Sogeri High School after passing the entrance examinations despite not completing grade six. His time at Sogeri was transformative, exposing him to a higher standard of education and discipline.

Recognising his academic potential, Diro earned a scholarship to attend Slade School in Warwick, Queensland, Australia. This was a major milestone, where he continued his studies up to the senior level. "I was fortunate to receive the scholarship. It was my ticket to a better education and a chance to build a future," he reflected.

The Military Calling

While still in school, the political landscape of Papua New Guinea was rapidly evolving, with independence on the horizon. The Australian government was preparing for the nation’s independence, and Diro’s potential did not go unnoticed. He was selected to attend the prestigious Officer Cadet School at Portsea, Victoria, Australia, in 1963-1964 where he underwent rigorous training in infantry tactics, parachuting, special forces, and demolitions.

"The only military knowledge I had was at school cadets. I had no military knowledge," he admitted. "But to go from school cadets to military college was very, very difficult." Despite the challenges, he excelled in his training and became one of the first Papua New Guineans to be commissioned as an officer in the Australian Army.

Breaking Barriers and Rising Through the Ranks

Ted Diro went on to became the first Papua New Guinean to be promoted to Major in the Royal Pacific Islands Regiment. "It was challenging indeed. Troops were used to taking commands and leadership from Australians," he explained. "But we proved ourselves to be worthy of the trust of our native troops."

His perseverance and dedication earned him respect among his peers, and he continued to rise through the ranks, eventually becoming the Commander of the Papua New Guinea Defence Force. "There was nothing that Australian officers could do that we couldn't do," Diro emphasised.

Brigadier General Ted Diro

Click to watch the full video interview with Retired Brigadier General Ted Diro

Transforming the PNG Defence Force

As Commander, Brigadier General Diro embarked on a mission to build a capable and self-reliant Papua New Guinea Defence Force. His vision was ambitious, yet practical.

Prince Charles and the young Brigadier General Ted Diro at independence in 1975.

"I created the Engineering Battalion to serve the nation through civic action and infrastructure development," Diro explained. Under his leadership, the Engineering Battalion made significant contributions to constructing essential infrastructure in various provinces.

He also established the Air Transport Squadron, defying predictions that Papua New Guinea would not produce aircraft captains until 1992. "In two years, I produced the Air Transport Squadron, including training five Papua New Guinean pilots who were successful," he recalled proudly.

Furthermore, Diro strengthened maritime capabilities by acquiring heavy loading barges to improve the country’s maritime transport and logistics. His dedication to building a robust defence system also led to the establishment of the Officer Cadet School, which was localised from Portsea, Australia, to Lae, Papua New Guinea.

He is also remembered for his role in leading the PNGDF's elite Kumul Force to Vanuatu in 1980 to put down a rebellion on the island of Espiritu Santo. His decisive leadership during this mission further solidified his reputation as a respected and capable commander.

"All the things I wanted to do in the Defence Force, I created when I was there, and that was completed in 1982," he said. "I saw myself having worked myself out of the job and handed command to somebody else to carry on."

Reflections on the Defence Force Today

Although retired, Brigadier General Diro remains passionate about the nation’s defence. He believes the Defence Force must modernise and adapt to new threats, particularly in the areas of drone warfare and missile systems. "The PNG Defence Force is rank-heavy but lacks teeth. It has to train in drone warfare. It has to train with bigger ocean-going facilities," he said.

He also stressed the need for better funding. "If our defence expenditure is hanging around this 0.3 or 0.4% of the GNP, then our politics are not interested in expanding the defence. The budget must increase to the normal budgetary allocation, which is about 4% of the GNP," he stated.

A Legacy of Leadership and Service

Brigadier General Tedi Diro’s life is a shining example of how perseverance and dedication can overcome adversity. From a young boy struggling to find education to a military leader shaping a nation’s destiny, his story is a source of inspiration for all Papua New Guineans.

Today, his legacy lives on as a reminder of what it takes to serve one’s country with honour, vision, and unwavering commitment.

PNG at 50: The 1980 Vanuatu Rebellion and Sir Julius Chan’s Bold Call

A Nation’s Moment to Lead

In the heart of the Pacific, in the year 1980, Papua New Guinea stood at a crossroads. A young nation, barely five years into its independence, was suddenly thrust onto the international stage—not through diplomacy, but through military intervention. It was an unexpected test of courage, leadership, and strategic foresight. At the centre of this historic moment stood two men: Prime Minister Sir Julius Chan and Brigadier General Ted Diro, the then-Commander of the PNG Defence Force (PNGDF).

The crisis erupted in the newly independent Republic of Vanuatu, where Jimmy Stevens, a local leader in Santo, declared a rebellion, backed by foreign influences, including French settlers and mercenaries. As chaos loomed, the Vanuatu government turned to its Pacific neighbours for help. Australia and New Zealand hesitated, but one leader did not—Sir Julius Chan.

A Decisive Order

Sir Julius, known for his sharp political instincts and unwavering resolve, made a bold decision. Against all odds, he ordered PNG troops into action. It was a defining moment—not only for his leadership but for the young PNGDF, which had never before engaged in an overseas mission.

"Julius Chan gave us an order and instructions not to bring any dead bodies back to Jackson's airport because that would end his political career," recalled Brigadier General Ted Diro. "So we had to be precise, we had to be disciplined, and we had to make sure that every move we made was calculated."

Diro and his men took the challenge head-on. The mission required more than brute force—it needed intelligence, strategy, and an unbreakable will. Every night, they trained for night combat, adopting Israeli military doctrines where officers led from the front. "Officers had to go first. That was the rule," said Diro. "It was not a position for the fainthearted. You led with your body and soul."

Retired Brigadier General Ted Diro

Click to watch the full video interview with Retired Brigadier General Ted Diro

Only the most capable marksmen were selected, those who could, as Diro put it, “shoot and kill a mutmut (bandicoot) in the dark.” This level of precision and readiness was key to the success of the operation.

The Battle for Santo

The PNGDF’s strategy was swift and surgical. Troops landed under the cover of darkness, taking key infrastructure points such as the airport, water supply, and electricity stations. When rebels—comprising French settlers and local militia—attacked under the assumption that the PNGDF would be unprepared, they were met with overwhelming force.

One night, as French rebels launched an assault, the well-trained PNGDF soldiers fought back ferociously. "It was according to our plan that the enemy was attacking at nighttime, and we dealt with them severely," Diro explained. "One of them was carrying a torch, and in panic, he didn’t switch it off. So they shot him in the arm. That was the moment they knew they had lost."

Within hours, the rebellion’s backbone was broken. Panic spread among the rebels, who likened the PNGDF to Muhammad Ali facing unprepared amateurs in the boxing ring. The next day, French planes evacuated their families, signaling the beginning of the end for the rebellion.

The final blow came when rebel leader Jimmy Stevens’ son, Eddie Stevens, attempted to charge a PNGDF roadblock but was neutralised by Lieutenant Don Bowie. "They put a banana truck blockage on the road," Diro recalled. "When Eddie Stevens tried to jump it, Don Bowie fired an anti-tank grenade into the vehicle. That was the end of it. That was when Jimmy Stevens gave up. He said, ‘I can’t beat Papua New Guinea.’"

The Triumph of Leadership and Unity

The success of the operation wasn’t just about military prowess; it was about leadership. Diro credited the victory to Sir Julius Chan’s unwavering support: “You put the nation on a war footing… Julius Chan did that. He stopped all the projects. He stopped all the funding of unnecessary diversionary projects and concentrated on the war.”

Sir Julius had seen the bigger picture—Vanuatu’s stability was essential for regional peace, and PNG’s intervention would establish it as a formidable force in the Pacific. His decision was a masterclass in bold leadership, proving that a small nation could stand tall among giants.

Even the logistics of the mission demonstrated PNG’s strategic planning. "We transported all our equipment under the pretense of going for the Independence Day celebrations," Diro said. "The guns were there in situ, ready for us to pick up if needed. We were prepared for every scenario."

A Legacy of Strength

Forty-four years later, the 1980 Vanuatu mission remains one of PNG’s proudest military moments. It showcased the professionalism and effectiveness of the PNGDF, but more importantly, it underscored the vision and courage of Sir Julius Chan.

As Brigadier General Ted Diro reflected at Sir Julius’s recent passing, his voice was filled with emotion. “Sir Julius was a deep thinker and strategist. He didn’t pass over issues lightly. He was like a military man in his own right.”

Diro recalled the moment he was summoned to Kiribati, where Sir Julius was attending the South Pacific Conference. “I didn’t want to go at first. I thought, ‘I’m not his bag carrier.’ But then I realised—he wanted my advice. That’s when I knew something serious was happening. When he told me about Vanuatu, I knew we had to act.”

The intervention in Vanuatu was not just a military operation; it was a statement. It was proof that PNG was ready to defend peace and democracy in the Pacific. It was a moment when a young nation, led by an astute statesman and a fearless commander, stood up and made history.

Today, as PNG reflects on its 50 years of independence, this story remains a testament to what the country is capable of when leadership, courage, and conviction come together. It is a reminder that in moments of crisis, bold decisions define a nation’s legacy.

Sir Bob Sinclair: The Builder Who Made Papua New Guinea His Home

In the grand tapestry of Papua New Guinea's history, few figures stand as tall as Sir Bob Sinclair. A builder, entrepreneur, and visionary, his journey is not just one of personal success but also of an unwavering commitment to a nation that he proudly calls home. For over six decades, Sir Bob has shaped the landscape of Papua New Guinea, leaving an indelible mark on its infrastructure, industry, and people.

Sir Bob Sinclair

Click to watch Sir Bob Sinclair tell his story in this exclusive interview:

A Leap of Faith

Sir Bob’s journey to Papua New Guinea began in 1964, in what he describes as an impulsive yet life-changing decision. A young carpenter from Sydney, he had just finished his apprenticeship and was working on renovations for Church of England homes when he found himself in an unfortunate accident involving his car—a 1934 Chevrolet DeSoto. After crashing into a Caltex service station in Sydney, he was left with a hefty debt of £550 at a time when he was earning just £9 and six shillings per week.

Faced with the daunting task of repaying this debt, he stumbled across a newspaper advertisement seeking a carpenter for Papua New Guinea. The pay was £15 and six shillings per week, significantly more than what he was making. Seeing an opportunity, he applied, attended the interview alongside 40 other candidates, and was offered the job.

Arrival in Papua New Guinea

In April 1964, Sir Bob, along with two other recruits—Graeme Dunnage and Kevin Collins—flew from Sydney to Port Moresby, with a stop in Townsville. Dressed in suits and ties, they were greeted by the overwhelming heat of Papua New Guinea at 6:00 AM, forcing them to quickly remove their jackets and ties.

Their employer, Dowsett Engineering, immediately assigned them to different projects. Sir Bob was sent to work on Tarrama Barracks, part of a large contract to build military barracks across the country. After a few months in Port Moresby, his skills earned him a transfer to Manam Island in Madang Province, where he was tasked with constructing a volcanic observation station.

Life on Manam Island

Sir Bob spent two years on Manam Island, living alongside missionaries and local villagers. Conditions were tough, with manual construction methods required due to the island’s remote nature. They had to dig trenches into volcanic ash, chiseling through lava flow without the help of modern machinery.

“We had no backhoes, no cement mixers—everything was done by hand,” he recalls. “When I see my workers today asking for machines, I tell them, ‘Back in 1964, we had to do it with a pick and shovel!’”

During his time there, young Papua New Guinean workers found life difficult, particularly because of the strict mission rules, which prohibited relationships with local women. Eventually, they became restless, but Sir Bob managed to maintain discipline among his crew.

His time on Manam was cut short when he was recruited to join a crocodile-hunting expedition along the Ramu River. He justified his departure to his employer by requesting permission to build a boat for escape in case of a volcanic eruption. The company agreed, and with the necessary materials provided, he built a canoe to travel to the Ramu River.

Crocodile Hunting on the Ramu River

Sir Bob’s next adventure took him deep into the Ramu and Sepik Rivers, where he lived among villagers, hunting crocodiles at night using only a torch, spear, and rifle. His method was simple: he would shine a light on the crocodile’s eyes, determine its size based on the distance between them, and then either shoot or spear the creature.

“The biggest croc I ever caught was 18 feet,” he remembers. “At night, we would limit our hunt to six crocodiles because that was all we could fit into our canoe.”

As a white man in these remote villages, he quickly learned how to adapt to local customs and languages, paying his workers in salt and rolling tobacco instead of money, as there were no trade stores at the time.

After a year of crocodile hunting, he returned to civilisation in Madang, where he secured a job with a local builder before moving on to Goroka to build housing for Talair Aviation pilots.

Major Construction Projects Begin

Sir Bob’s big break came when he was hired by Morobe Constructions to work on the Goroka General Hospital, one of the largest projects undertaken in Papua New Guinea at the time. Over three years, he rose through the ranks to become site foreman, overseeing 80 expatriate workers and 450 Papua New Guineans.

Following this, he was transferred to Kundiawa, where he built a post office. It was during this period that he met Prince Charles (now King Charles III), who was visiting the area.

“I shook hands with Prince Charles and explained what I was working on. Now, looking back, it’s amazing to think that I met a man who would later become King,” he reflects.

By 1969, Sir Bob moved to Lae, where he met his wife, Alice Green. After being refused married accommodation by his employer, he decided to start his own business.

“That was it for me,” he says. “I told my boss, ‘Now you’ve got competition.’”

Founding Lae Builders & Contractors

Sir Bob established Lae Builders & Contractors, which rapidly grew into one of Papua New Guinea’s largest construction firms. His breakthrough came when he won the contract to lay concrete for the Markham Bridge, the longest bridge in Papua New Guinea.

“They had quoted A$96,000 for the job. I put in a bid for A$14,500, just for labour. I finished the bridge in 14 weeks, and that’s when I knew I was on the right track,” he recalls.

The company expanded, securing contracts for the University of Technology in Lae, medical facilities, commercial buildings, and Manus Island’s Refugee Processing Centre, built under extreme time constraints.

Challenges and Triumphs

Despite his success, Sir Bob faced setbacks, including being wrongly blamed for the Umi Bridge collapse in 1994. However, an investigation revealed that structural faults had already existed.

Another challenge came when the government of Papua New Guinea was unable to send mail overseas. As Chairman of Post PNG, he resolved the crisis, negotiating with Singapore Airlines to clear the backlog of undelivered mail.

A Legacy in Rugby League

In addition to construction, Sir Bob left his mark on rugby league. He founded the Lae Bombers, later renamed the Snax Tigers, ensuring that Lae remained competitive in national rugby competitions.

“Rugby league has always been a big part of Lae’s identity,” he sayss.

A Lasting Legacy

Today, Sir Bob’s Lae International Hotel remains a symbol of his commitment to Lae. Looking ahead, he remains optimistic about Papua New Guinea’s economic future, advocating for fairer resource management.

“The page has turned now,” he says. “We must take full advantage of what we’ve learned in the past 50 years and build a stronger, more independent Papua New Guinea.”

With over 60 years of experience, Sir Bob’s legacy lives on. His story is one of resilience, adventure, and an unbreakable bond with Papua New Guinea.

“My legacy stays here,” he declares. “I’ve told my sons and grandsons—nothing gets sold. They carry on what I started. This country gave me everything, and I want to give everything back.”

The Search for the Flying Dutchman: A Journey of Discovery and Remembrance

Hidden deep within the misty peaks of the Owen Stanley Range, where time stands still and history whispers through the trees, an extraordinary discovery unfolded in 2024. It was here, amid the untamed wilderness of the Ghost Mountain Trail, that Australian adventurer and writer Peter Gamgee, with the invaluable assistance of local villagers, rediscovered the wreckage of the long-lost Flying Dutchman—a Second World War C-47 transport plane that had vanished into the Papua New Guinea jungle on 10 November 1942.

 

This momentous occasion, which took place on 4 October 2024, was more than just a historical milestone. It was a tribute to the 23 men aboard that ill-fated flight, a solemn acknowledgement of their courage, and a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

Peter Gamgee and local villages at the crash site of the Flying Dutchman

                                  Click to watch the full video interview with Peter Gamgee

 

A Flight Into History

 

The Flying Dutchman was en route from Port Moresby to Pongani when it encountered a sudden downdraft, causing it to clip trees before crashing into the mountainside. Six men perished instantly. Over the following days and weeks, the survivors endured unimaginable hardship, battling hunger, exhaustion, and the unforgiving jungle. Their story was immortalised in a makeshift diary, written on the plane’s lavatory door, now famously known as the Diary Door.

 

Each entry on the door paints a haunting picture of their struggle:

 

10 November 1942: "Crashed 1:30 pm Tues. 10 of Nov. – 17 men alive."

 

12 November 1942: "4 men started for help."

 

23 November 1942: "Last cigarette - even butts."

 

7 December 1942: "Year ago today the war started. Boy, we didn’t think of this then."

 

30 December 1942: "Johnnie died today."

 

1 January 1943: The final entry—a silent testimony to their fate.

 

These words, preserved in history, serve as an emotional reminder of their sacrifice and endurance. The Diary Door now rests in the National Museum of the United States Air Force, an eternal witness to their final days.

 

Rediscovery After 36 Years

 

The wreckage had been visited only twice before—in 1961 and 1988—before it faded from public knowledge. For decades, the location of the Flying Dutchman remained uncertain, a lost relic of wartime tragedy. That is, until Peter Gamgee set out on a mission fuelled by passion, history, and the dream of bringing new light to an old story.

 

Armed with archival research and local knowledge, Gamgee and a group of 26 villagers and guides embarked on a gruelling trek through the dense, rain-soaked mountains. The journey was arduous—steep inclines, chilling cold, and days of relentless searching. But then, on 4 October, their perseverance paid off. Pieces of the aircraft emerged from the jungle, leading them to the wreck itself.

 

“I wasn’t sure until I saw it with my own eyes,” Gamgee recalls. “But when I did, I knew we had found the Flying Dutchman. It was an overwhelming moment.”

 

Gamgee described the difficult conditions of the journey, saying, “It was tough and beautiful. The walk up the range from Lorona meant climbing about 2,000 metres in just two days. The jungle is just as it was in 1942—wild, remote, untouched. It was a real challenge, but with the support of the local people, we managed.”

 

On the moment of discovery, he shared, “We had split into two groups, searching in different directions. Then suddenly, one of the locals came back very excited, shouting that they had found it. The celebration was incredible. The team had done something truly special.”

 

Reflecting on the significance of the site, Gamgee said, “When I saw the wreck, it was like stepping back in time. The jungle had tried to reclaim it, but you could still see parts of the aircraft—an engine, twisted metal, the remnants of its story frozen in time.”

 

He also spoke of the emotional weight of the discovery: “This was not just an aircraft. This was a place where men fought for survival, where hope flickered in the darkest of times. To stand there and imagine what they went through—it was humbling.”

 

A Legacy of Remembrance and Renewal

 

Beyond its historical significance, this rediscovery has the potential to transform lives. Gamgee envisions using the site to promote philanthropy, tourism, and economic development for the local communities along the Ghost Mountain Trail.

 

“The people here own this place, and they are the true custodians of its history,” he says. “They should benefit from sharing this incredible story with the world.”

 

He hopes that the discovery will create opportunities for the community, adding, “Now that we know where it is, we can plan. Maybe take people up there, show them the incredible hospitality of the villages along the way, and make this history come alive again.”

 

For Gamgee, the journey was never just about finding the plane. “I wanted to do something bigger than just a search. I wanted to help these communities, bring attention to their needs. If this discovery can lead to better healthcare, education, and economic opportunities for them, then we’ve truly achieved something.”

 

For many, the story of the Flying Dutchman is more than a wartime tragedy; it is a testament to resilience, brotherhood, and hope. The six men who survived endured against all odds, their willpower defying the crushing weight of despair. And now, with its rediscovery, their legacy lives on, inspiring a new generation to honour the past while forging a better future.

 

A Call to Remember

 

As the sun sets over the Owen Stanley Range, casting golden hues across the jungle canopy, one cannot help but reflect on the echoes of history buried beneath its towering trees. The rediscovery of the Flying Dutchman is not just an expedition’s success—it is a reminder of the sacrifices made in distant wars, the enduring bonds between nations, and the indomitable strength of the human spirit.

 

This is more than a story of war and loss. It is a story of courage, remembrance, and the undying hope that even in the most forgotten corners of the world, history will find a way to be heard.

The Legacy of Lae International Hotel: A Vision of Excellence and Determination

In the heart of Lae, a city known for its industrial strength and historical significance, stands the iconic Lae International Hotel—an enduring testament to the vision and resilience of Sir Bob Sinclair. What began as a historic property owned by Qantas in the 1950s has, through determination and unwavering commitment, transformed into a premier establishment that embodies world-class hospitality in Papua New Guinea.

 

A Vision Takes Flight

 

Sir Bob Sinclair’s journey began in 1978, when he, along with his partners Graeme Dunnage, Graham Francis, John Haugie, and Robin Kumaina, took a bold step in acquiring the property from Air Niugini. At the time, Papua New Guinea was still finding its footing after independence, and opportunities to invest in such ventures were rare and fraught with obstacles.

 

Despite their passion, the consortium faced significant roadblocks. The Morobe Provincial Government, under Premier Utula Samana, refused to engage in the project, leaving the group to fund the venture independently. Corporate giants like Steamships sought to acquire the hotel, yet Sir Bob remained steadfast in his vision. He was determined that Lae International Hotel would not just be another commercial property but a symbol of excellence for the people of Papua New Guinea.

An aerial view of Lae International Hotel

Click to watch Sir Bob Sinclair tells the story of Lae International Hotel in this video interview:

                        

 

Recalling a critical moment, Sir Bob shared: “We went to the provincial government to ask if they were interested in taking shares in the hotel. Unfortunately, at the time, Utula Samana wouldn’t see us. He kept sitting in his office while we waited outside. John Haugie and Robin Kumaina got upset because we were left waiting for hours. Eventually, Samana stormed out of his office yelling, ‘Get out of my office!’” This unexpected resistance led to the partners increasing their own stakes in the hotel, ensuring it remained independent.

 

Overcoming Challenges, Building a Legacy

 

With resilience and business acumen, Sir Bob and his partners nurtured the hotel, ensuring that it would not only meet international standards but also serve as a source of employment and professional growth for young Papua New Guineans. From its modest beginnings as the TAA Lodge, the hotel grew into a world-class facility, offering top-tier hospitality and amenities that rival those of international luxury establishments.

 

One of the greatest challenges came from corporate competitors who sought to acquire the hotel. Sir Bob vividly recalls: “Sir Danny Leahy and Sir Mike Bromley from Steamships always wanted to buy the Lae International Hotel. But I told them, ‘If you got the Lae International Hotel, you’d stuff it up!’ I told their chairman, ‘You guys don’t maintain your hotels, you don’t put the money back in. If you got the Lae International, you’d ruin it.’” His unwavering commitment ensured that the hotel remained independent and continuously reinvested in quality and service.

 

One of Sir Bob’s most cherished achievements is the employment and mentorship of young Papua New Guineans. “Some of the staff are only 19, 20, or 21 years old, and they’re learning how to serve and interact with international guests. It broadens their view of life, gives them confidence, and makes them feel they have a future.” Many of the hotel’s employees have grown in their careers, taking the skills learned at Lae International Hotel to greater opportunities.

 

An Unwavering Commitment to Excellence

 

Over the years, Lae International Hotel has undergone a remarkable K30 million renovation, ensuring that it continues to set the standard for hospitality in Papua New Guinea. Sir Bob’s meticulous attention to detail is evident in every aspect of the hotel—from the beautifully landscaped gardens to the locally crafted furniture that adds a unique touch of Papua New Guinean heritage to the interiors.

 

“This is the hotel I built,” Sir Bob proudly states. “Even the Prime Minister and the Governor have given me their best wishes for the hotel, recognising it as the leading international hotel in Lae.” His dedication to maintaining world-class standards has set the hotel apart from others in the country.

 

Beyond aesthetics, the hotel stands as a beacon of quality service, with staff trained to offer an exceptional experience to visitors from around the world. International guests, accustomed to the finest accommodations globally, step into Lae International Hotel and are consistently amazed at the level of comfort and hospitality it offers. “I’ve had guests like Ray Warren, the famous rugby league commentator, come to Lae. They drive on terrible roads from the airport and wonder what they’ve gotten themselves into. But then they arrive at the hotel, step inside, and stand there amazed. They can’t believe that such a building exists in Lae.”

 

A Lasting Impact

 

At 81 years old, Sir Bob looks back on his journey with immense pride. His determination to build an establishment that represents excellence, fosters economic growth, and uplifts the people of Papua New Guinea has paid off. His leadership has not only shaped Lae International Hotel but has also inspired countless aspiring entrepreneurs across the nation.

 

His story is one of courage, resilience, and an unshakable belief in the potential of Papua New Guinea. It is proof that with passion and perseverance, even the most formidable challenges can be overcome.

 

Lae International Hotel is more than just a hotel—it is a legacy. It is a symbol of what can be achieved when visionaries refuse to compromise on their dreams. And as it continues to flourish, it remains a shining beacon of inspiration for future generations of Papua New Guinean entrepreneurs.

Forever Connected to Bulolo: Rommel Del Valle’s Journey of Identity and Resilience

Some places shape us in ways that time and distance can never erase. For Rommel Del Valle, that place is Bulolo—a picturesque town in Papua New Guinea’s Morobe Province that nurtured his childhood, instilled in him a deep sense of belonging, and continues to define his identity even as he builds a life in Australia.

Though born in the Philippines, Rommel grew up in Bulolo from the time he was 16 months old until he was 12. Today, as an Australian citizen living in Sydney with his wife and three children, he still carries the spirit of “Mangi Bulolo” wherever he goes—so much so that he has it painted on his shoes as a personal tribute to his roots.

But Rommel’s story is more than nostalgia; it’s a testament to resilience, cultural connection, and the enduring power of identity.

Growing Up in Bulolo

Rommel’s journey to Bulolo began in 1976 when his father, Romy Del Valle, an engineer with PNG Forest Products, brought his family to Papua New Guinea. From the very beginning, Bulolo became home. It was a place of warmth, friendship, and cultural exchange—where people treated each other like family and where respect was deeply ingrained in daily life.

“I made lots of friends there, especially with the locals,” Rommel recalls. “It was just a really nice place to live, where I knew everybody and developed strong values of respect and love for all.”

Rommel attended Bulolo International Preschool and later Bulolo International Primary School, where he was surrounded by classmates from all over the world—Japan, Finland, Sweden, New Zealand, Australia, Malaysia, and Indonesia. This multicultural upbringing gave him a broader perspective and a deep appreciation for diversity.

“I learned to live, cooperate, and work with people from different backgrounds,” he says. “That experience has stayed with me throughout my life.”

Rommel Del Valle

Click to watch the full video interview with Rommel Del Valle

The Transition to Australia

At the age of 12, Rommel’s journey took another turn when his parents decided to send him to boarding school in Australia. For some, this might have been a difficult transition, but for Rommel, it was a natural step. Having grown up around Australian expatriates in Bulolo, he was more familiar with their culture and language than with his own Filipino heritage.

“I felt more at home going to Australia than to the Philippines,” he explains. “It was a natural transition for me.”

Despite the move, his attachment to Bulolo and Papua New Guinea remained strong. His childhood experiences—the friendships, the values, and the sense of community—continued to shape his identity.

“You can take me out of PNG, but you can’t take PNG out of me,” he says with a smile.

A Vision for Papua New Guinea’s Future

As Papua New Guinea approaches 50 years of independence in 2025, Rommel reflects on the country’s journey and his hopes for its future.

“I wish for every Papua New Guinean to be brave enough to stand up and be counted,” he says. “To be more assertive and inclusive in decision-making, especially our leaders—not just in politics but also in communities.”

One of his biggest hopes is to see greater economic empowerment and job creation for Papua New Guineans.

“If people can start generating income and creating businesses, PNG can move forward as a strong, independent nation in the Pacific and beyond,” he says.

Bulolo: A Connection That Never Fades

Rommel’s love for Papua New Guinea is something he carries with him every day—quite literally. During the COVID-19 pandemic, he custom-painted his shoes with the words “Mangi Bulolo PNG” and an illustration of the Raggiana bird-of-paradise. The artwork is more than just a design; it’s a deeply personal symbol of where he comes from and the values that continue to guide him.

Rommel Del Valle's 'Mangi Bulolo' shoes.

“In this day and age, sometimes we get lost in who we are,” he says. “I do this to remind myself—this is where I grew up, this is my family and friends. Maybe one day, I’ll go back to visit, because there’s no other place like it in the world.”

For Rommel Del Valle, Bulolo is more than just a childhood memory—it’s a foundation, a guiding light, and a constant reminder of who he is. Whether he’s at home in Sydney or walking along Bondi Beach, Bulolo is always with him.

Malum Nalu and Rommel Del Valle at Bondi Beach, Sydney, in November 2024.

Because home isn’t just a place—it’s a feeling that never fades.

The Lost Wings of Papua New Guinea: A Pilot’s Lament and a Nation’s Hope

Captain Michael Butler gazes at the sky with a wistful expression. At 73, the retired ‘bush pilot’ still remembers the golden era of rural aviation in Papua New Guinea—a time when the hum of small aircraft was a lifeline to the country’s most isolated communities. But those days are gone. The airstrips, once bustling with activity, are now overgrown with weeds. The planes that once brought hope and connection to remote villages no longer land.

For 10 years, from 1981 to 1991, Captain Butler flew for Talair, an airline that symbolised the spirit of rural aviation in PNG. He and his fellow pilots traversed rugged mountains and dense jungles, braving unpredictable weather to deliver supplies, transport the sick, and keep communities connected to the outside world. Today, more than 600 rural airstrips have vanished from PNG’s landscape, and with them, a critical link to survival and prosperity.

“Imagine how parents must feel when their child falls sick in an isolated village,” Butler reflects. “They try walking for days to reach a hospital, only for some to die along the way. And then they have to carry the body back. In the 21st century, where else in the world would this be acceptable?”

His words cut deep, painting a grim picture of the reality many Papua New Guineans face. Without air services, people suffer in silence. Essential goods, medical aid, and educational supplies struggle to reach the most vulnerable. Coffee and fresh produce, once flown out to markets, now rot in abandoned storehouses.

Captain Michael Butler

                                    Click to watch the full video interview with Captain Butler

A Legacy of Flight and Brotherhood

The golden era of PNG’s aviation was not just about flying planes—it was about building a nation. Pilots like Butler weren’t just aviators; they were lifelines. Their camaraderie went beyond the cockpit, forming bonds that transcended nationality. Australians, Papua New Guineans, and pilots from around the world risked their lives daily to ensure that the most remote regions of PNG stayed connected.

“But it wasn’t without cost,” Butler admits. “Many pilots lost their lives. We knew the risks, but we also knew the impact of our work. And that made it worth it.”

The pilots who once knew every valley, every peak, every unpredictable gust of wind have now retired. Their deep knowledge of PNG’s skies is slowly fading, and no new generation is stepping up to replace them. Butler laments how aviation today has become overly bureaucratic, focused on rigid safety regulations to the point that practicality is lost. “You can be too safe,” he argues. “If you overcompensate, you forget the real-world application, and ironically, that makes things more dangerous.”

A Nation Left Grounded

Since Talair’s closure in 1993, the aviation landscape has changed drastically. Airlines have gradually pulled out of bush services, citing economic unviability. What was once a thriving network of flights to every province has dwindled to rare chartered planes that only the wealthy can afford. The cost of a ticket from Port Moresby to a rural airstrip, once a mere 35 kina, has skyrocketed to nearly 500 kina—an impossible sum for villagers who rely on subsistence farming.

Without flights, rural economies have collapsed. Coffee, once a major export, has seen a drastic decline simply because there are no planes to transport it to markets. Entire communities, once vibrant trading hubs, have faded into obscurity. “We used to fly every weekend, shuttling coffee from remote villages,” Butler recalls. “Then the flights stopped, and the coffee just rotted where it was stored. The people had no choice but to stop farming.”

The impact extends beyond economics. Health services have deteriorated. Rural hospitals lack basic medicines because airstrips are no longer accessible. Emergency evacuations are rare, leaving patients to endure agonizing journeys on foot through treacherous terrain. Education has suffered as well, with teachers reluctant to take up posts in areas where there is no reliable transport.

A Call to the Skies

Despite the decline, Butler refuses to believe that rural aviation is beyond saving. He envisions a future where PNG establishes a Royal Flying Doctor Service, similar to Australia’s, ensuring that even the most remote communities have access to emergency medical aid. He advocates for government-subsidised air services, arguing that maintaining airstrips is far more economical than building and maintaining roads in PNG’s unforgiving terrain.

“If I were the government, I’d make health and education the top priority,” Butler says firmly. “Fund those properly first, and then we can talk about other developments.”

His passion is unwavering. He dreams of a day when young pilots take up the mantle, when rural airstrips once again see the dust rise as a plane lands with life-saving supplies. When no child dies because they couldn’t get to a hospital in time.

Beyond policy changes, Butler believes in rekindling a sense of national responsibility. He calls upon leaders, businesses, and communities to support initiatives that could restore air services to PNG’s most isolated areas. Whether through subsidies, partnerships with humanitarian organisations, or government-backed aviation programs, solutions must be found.

“We cannot allow an entire generation to be left behind,” Butler pleads. “If Papua New Guinea is to progress, we must first reconnect our people.”

The sky, once a beacon of hope for the remote villages of PNG, now stands silent. But perhaps, through the voices of those who refuse to forget, the lost wings of rural aviation may one day rise again.

For now, Captain Butler continues to share his story, hoping that someone, somewhere, will listen and act.

Perhaps the skies of Papua New Guinea will once again be filled with the hum of aircraft—not just as a memory of the past, but as a promise for the future.