The Heartwarming Legacy of a Remarkable Old Woman in Gavstore settlement - DWU

Two years ago, as I was adjusting to life as a student at Divine Word University in Madang, I met someone who would leave an unforgettable mark on my heart. She was an older woman, living in the Gavstore settlement just beside the Maritime College and the university’s main gate. Her days were spent selling betel nut to students, staff, and passersby, quietly supporting herself through this simple trade. Yet, despite the modest nature of her work, it was clear that this woman’s purpose reached far beyond the items she sold.

She had a small stall, unassuming in appearance, but it became a place where we, the students, often found refuge. When the pressures of university life weighed us down—when assignments piled up, exams loomed, or homesickness tugged at us—her stall was a place we could go to breathe. Every time I approached, she greeted me with a warm smile that seemed to say, “You’re welcome here.” And in that moment, the stress of the day would melt away. There was something deeply comforting about her presence, something that felt like home in a place far from where I came from.

She wasn’t just selling betel nut; she was offering solace. Somehow, without ever being told, she understood the burdens we carried. It was as if she could see through the façade we students often put on, the brave faces we wore as we tackled our studies, our worries, and the weight of our future ambitions. When she looked at us, there was no judgment, only acceptance. She treated us, particularly the male students, with a kind of respect that was rare. We weren’t just her customers, we were young men with dreams, potential, and challenges that she seemed to instinctively understand.

Her respect for us was profound. It wasn’t something she gave lightly, and it wasn’t a surface-level gesture. It was rooted in her genuine care for us, something I felt deeply every time I interacted with her. In moments when times were tough—and as students, those moments were frequent—she became a pillar of support.

If we needed betel nut but didn’t have the money, she would offer it on credit without hesitation. If we missed the last bus to town and couldn’t find our way back, she would dig into her own pocket to give us bus fare. These were not things she had to do, but she did them, over and over again, out of the kindness of her heart. I came to realize that she was much more than just a vendor. She became someone I, and many others, could count on. She was our guardian, always there, quietly looking out for us when we needed her most.

What truly set her apart, though, was the way she respected our manhood. It’s something I will never forget. She had this small, seemingly insignificant habit that spoke volumes about her understanding of us as young men. On her table, there were always two bottles of lime for chewing betel nut. One of these bottles was reserved for us boys alone, and the girls were never allowed to use it. It was her way of acknowledging our identity, our space, and our dignity. Each time we came to buy or chew, she would hand us that special bottle, letting us know, without words, that she saw us and respected who we were.

It didn’t stop there. She knew the betel nut like no one else. When we approached her stall, she wouldn’t just let us pick from the pile. No, she would carefully select the best one for us, knowing exactly which was good and which was bad. Her attention to these small details, her desire to ensure we got the best, made us feel like we mattered. It was as though she took pride in taking care of us, even in the little things.

But she wasn’t only serious or maternal. She had a wonderful sense of humor. There were many days when I would stop by her stall not just to buy betel nut, but to hear her tell a story. She had a way with words, spinning tales that would make us laugh, even on the hardest of days. Her light-hearted jokes and playful banter became a bright spot in the routine of university life, a reminder that joy could be found even in the simplest interactions.

As I stand on the edge of my departure from Divine Word University, preparing to leave this chapter of my life behind, I find myself thinking about her often. I realize now that she was more than just a woman selling betel nut to make a living. She was a source of strength, kindness, and compassion for all of us who came to know her. On behalf of all the students she served, I want to say thank you. She gave us so much more than we could ever repay—her time, her care, her understanding, and her generosity.

I may be leaving, but the memory of this remarkable woman will stay with me forever. As an Engan man, I traveled thousands of kilometers to come to Madang for my education. And while I will return home after my studies, the stories I carry of this woman’s kindness will go with me. They will become part of the fabric of my life, stories I will share with others to remind them that, in the most unexpected places, humanity shines brightly.

Thank you, mama, for everything you gave us. May your soul continue to radiate the same warmth and generosity to the future students who will pass through your life. We may not be able to repay you, but we will carry your kindness with us, wherever we go.

#appreciation_post

#grandma

#kindhearted