Time dims even the most vivid memory. Like a well-loved family black-and-white album, the memories of my experiences during an assignment in Bougainville in 1996 are dog-eared, worn and have lost clarity.
After nearly 30 years the timeline has merged with the jumble of other assignments I undertook in the region (the Sandline crisis and an excursion to West Papua to meet the resistance movement over the border). It feels like a monochrome film with the edits all mixed up.
