Tribal violence is not new to the highlands of PNG. It has changed and escalated over the past 20 years, with the introduction of guns and a breakdown in the traditional rules governing warfare.
Last year alone, 30,000 people were displaced.
While the impact is felt by every victim, girls and women are uniquely affected.
Rape is often used as a weapon of war, and the impacts are far-reaching. Displacement also falls hard on women trying to keep their families fed and alive.
On top of that, tribal violence has closed schools, and for girls, the barrier to education becomes even harder.
Born in PNG, I'm now based in Melbourne, working as a journalist and broadcaster working with ABC Pacific and hosting a weekly show for Pacific women on Radio Australia called Sistas, Let's Talk.
In March, I travelled to Port Moresby to join the ABC's PNG correspondent, Natalie Whiting, on a trip to the Highlands to cover the issue.
For me, this hits close to home.
Tsak Valley, in Enga province, is where my mum is from, and I have family there who have been affected by tribal conflict as well.
I didn't know what I would see or hear when I got there.
As we planned our trip, I checked with my uncles to find out what the situation was like when we planned to arrive and asked about my grandmother's grave site, and if I could visit.
Sadly, my grandmother's grave is no longer there, due to tribal conflicts.
It was going to be an emotional journey for me to return.
A sad scene
It was raining. It was cold outside. Rain was pouring down, and it was really busy for Natalie and me.
When we landed at Wapenamanda airport, we travelled the highway to Wabag town, Enga province's main town.
We joined a police and defence force convoy to a village in Ambum Valley.
There was a death of an elder and chief and, due to tribal conflicts, the village's people had asked for a security escort to take his body across the dangerous territory.
We went there to witness that ceremony and passed a place called Tole, where there had been a massacre of 11 innocent children, women and men as well.
It was a sad scene to see - a village which was supposed to be like any ordinary village with children playing and mothers selling their fresh produce at the markets but that was no longer happening there.
The feeling of emptiness was heartbreaking.
We saw freshly dug graves, five or six. One body was not returned and one of the dead women was pregnant.
We spent about an hour there and spoke to the grieving mothers.
I chatted with a girl who told me she was no longer going to school because of the massacre and the tension as a result.
Meeting the Sori Mamas
We left Tole, with a security escort and we returned to Wabag town to meet the Sori Mamas. Sori Mamas means Sad Mothers Association.
This association caters for women who are widowed and children who are orphaned through tribal conflicts, as well as those who are HIV positive, disabled or marginalised.
We met with several members of the group and their head, Lydia Kitungu.
I wasn't prepared for what I saw and what I heard from the mothers.
Most of them had travelled long distances to share their stories and it was emotional.
We met Jane, whose schooling was disrupted by conflict. Her school was burnt down, she got married, two of her sisters-in-law were killed, and further fighting forced her to leave her siblings.
"I need to get back to school because I am not old. I need to complete my schooling," she told us.
We also met Roselyn, whose husband was a magistrate and peace officer.
"There was a fight in our district and my husband went to stop that fight and they killed him," she told us.
"I have four sons and one daughter. We have not seen him since. They [the killers] must have buried him in the jungle."
Their story isn't unique.
Bus has eight children. Her husband, a deputy district administrator, was killed in tribal conflict.
Three of the children were to study at university, but she now can't pay the fees.
Helen helps look after children orphaned by the fighting.
"Kandep is the worst place for tribal fighting. Men there are just happy to fight and this makes it hard for women and children," she tells us.
"Women and children have to flee their homes and villages to get away from the constant fighting.
"There was recent fighting in my mother's place where women and children were fleeing and they were attempting to cross a lake where children drowned and their bodies were not recovered because it was hard to find them.
"I took some of the kids who fled tribal conflict and they are with me. I am separated from my husband but look after unfortunate kids.
"It's so hard. The fighting is a result of people who are hungry for money."
A jarring normality
After filming in Tole, we made our final arrangements for the planned trip to Tsak Valley in Enga province, where there was supposed to be a peace ceremony.
But while Natalie and I were in Port Moresby, my uncles on the ground warned us that fighting had erupted and we wouldn't know how serious it was until we got here.
So, unfortunately, the plan to go to Tsak did not eventuate. I would not get to visit my uncles.
It showed how quickly things can escalate in a tribal conflict.
Port Moresby was bustling with many activities.
I was struck by what a big contrast it was here compared to where I was just a day or two before, listening to those who were impacted by tribal conflict.
In Port Moresby, I can see mothers relaxed, selling at the market. For the kids, I can see so many opportunities that they have to make money to support their families.
I think of the Sori Mamas and all mothers who are affected by tribal conflict and I hope that one day they and their children can also have the same opportunities.
