MICHAEL GEKETA

An entry in the Rivers Prize for
Writing on Peace & Harmony

When he is talking
Be harmonious by being a good listener
He will obey you
Even in little things

When he is in penury
Be harmonious by addressing his needs
He will die with admiration for you
An epitome of sharing

When you feel for someone
Be harmonious by being compassion
You will stir his affection
And be accorded peace
Because you cared

When wanting to know another
Be harmonious by being in his shoes
You will appreciate his dilemma
And earn his respect
Leading to co-existence

Papua New Guinea
Highlanders may be aggressive
Be humane with them
So they exploit the passion for reconciliation

Papua New Guinea
Momase may be self-absorbed
Be generous with them
So they isolate impartiality they posses

Papua New Guinea
Papuans may be egoistic
Be charitable with them
So they set apart altruism they inherit

Papua New Guinea
New Guinea Islanders may be haughty
Be humble with them
So they access their potential

Papua New Guinea
Naturally resourceful you may be
Just harmonise it with egalitarianism
To rid underdevelopment

The Land of the Unexpected
Crime-ridden is your image
Just harmonise it with a smile
A symbol of Love, Peace & Harmony

MATHIAS KIN

An entry in the Rivers Prize for
Writing on Peace & Harmony

FATHER John Nilles (1905-93), who was to be accorded the Simbu name Kawagl,  was born in a small town in Germany, the eldest of five children.

As a young boy, he was captivated by stories about missionaries in faraway places. So at an early age he decided he was going to become a missionary and serve in these lands.

He fulfilled his childhood dream and became a priest, entering the Society of Divine Word (SVD) of Father Arnold Janssen. His superiors selected him to come to New Guinea.

In 1936, Fr Nilles left Germany for New Guinea. In mid-July 1937, on a sunny day, he flew over the Bismarck Range into the Simbu Gorge in a small mission plane and landed at Mingende.

Fr Nilles’ first job in Mingende was to learn the Kuman language. This he achieved in less than one year, speaking it fluently. The other priests at that time also spoke fluent Kuman - Fr Alphonse Schaefer (German), Fr Boellen (German) and Fr Welling (American). The Lutheran Rev William Bergmann was another who also spoke the Kuman language.

Apart from his pastoral responsibilities, Fr Nilles other main job was to train catechists who could help spread their mission work into the rural areas.

During World War II, Fr Nilles was interned in Australia with other missionaries of German origin. Before the Australian soldiers took him away, he arranged with local believers to hide all his work and books in the villages.

He spent four and half years in Brisbane: the first few months were behind barbed wire but later he was allowed to do pastoral work in the Australian countryside.

Fr Nilles also studied through Sydney University on the culture of Simbu and earned a Diploma in Anthropology.

When his internment ended in July 1947, he returned to New Guinea and came straight to Simbu and his people at Mingende. There was great joy and, in the true Simbu way, feasts were made for him and the other missionaries.

In Simbu he continued his mission work but also spent more time on his other passion; studying the culture of the people.

He taught the people to preserve their good aspects of their culture and do away with the bad. One of the biggest practices he strongly discouraged was tribal fighting.

Some of his views on preservation of culture came into conflict with established church laws. For example, polygamy was part of the Chimbu culture. Fr Nilles asked Rome to recognise such marriage so men and wives could be admitted to the church to receive sacraments.

The church disallowed this and said people who practiced polygamy could not take part in sacraments and other church activities. Fr Nilles had strong opinions that the church should respect the culture of the people and apply leniency in its judgments on traditional marriages.

He took part in people of Simbus’ cultural activities and lived as one of them. He enjoyed mumu food and helped pay bride prices with steel axes and shells and took part in compensation and other cultural activities.

He was a great orator and attracted great crowds to his public speeches. These are virtues Simbu people identified with in leaders and in Fr John Nilles they found one.

The people trusted and followed him and he was taken as one of their own, a Simbuand not a white man. The people named him Kawagle after the first Siambelga leader who brought the Catholic mission to Chimbu from Bundi.

He had said that when he died, he must be buried among the Simbu people where his soul would be forever and his grave would be looked after by them.

During his 54 years in Simbu, he returned to Germany six times to visit relatives and on official church work. He also made presentations about the Simbu people and their way of life to large audiences in his native land where he secured funds to develop the church in Simbu.

Fr Nilles was made a member of various government committees in Simbu. In 1970, the Simbu people asked him to stand for election in the Simbu Regional seat in the national parliament.

He thereupon renounced his German citizenship and stood for election which he won, representing Simbu in the Third House of Assembly. He defeated a young rival, Iambakey Okuk, who was runner-up. Okuk was to win the next election in 1972 and go on to become an iconic figure of Simbu and PNG politics.

John Nilles’ election at the time was resented by many people due to his background in the priesthood. He justified his election and stood firm for his people of Chimbu.

In his first speech in parliament in June 1970he challenged his critics saying, “I am not ashamed to be called a Chimbu man…..I shall be responsible to my conscience and my God.”

In 1989, he was diagnosed with a bone disease in his legs and went to Germany believing that he would get well and return to PNG and Simbu. Most Simbu people did not know he had gone. Those who did thought he would return.

Fr John Nilles was never to return. He died three years later in 1993. He was buried in Germany and not among his Simbu people as he had promised.

In recognition of his efforts in mission work in New Guinea, a street in his home town in Germany was named “Pater Nilles Strasse” (Father Nilles Street).

The people of Simbu remember him as Papa Nilles, a man who became part of a big family, the Simbu people.

Bottom photo: Sir Ignatius Kilage, Fr John Nilles and Lady Regina Kilage. The late Sir Ignatius was a great Simbu leader. The first highlands priest worked closely with Fr Nilles. Lady Regina died in September this year

PHILIP G KAUPA

An entry in the Rivers Prize for
Writing on Peace & Harmony

If life's meant to be fair
why hardly share
it's noble to give
to help one live
but high you walk

and to me, you rarely talk
you call me beggar
I do it better
In the streets we meet
I look not high but, at your feet

like a dog and its nose
after the smell it knows
my hands I raise
to seek your grace
to live each day

your trash is my pay
in your trash, I take heed
as it's my need
I have to feed
be not Lazarus and

the wealthy man
please take my hand
I beg for a dollar
I get something smaller
you look at me

yet, not seeing me
I try my best
to be your guest
with ignorance you frown
and turn around

I blankly stare at the ground
if to offer a dollar would take you a mile
please make my day and offer a smile
You'll treat me good, if I'm your brother
but, that you know, I am another

You know it's worthy to help a poor
at my cup you hardly pour
you barely do and close your door
you may be glad
but, I am sad

one is not lost
if one can host
with a glass of water and not the most
one can't deny that to share
is to care

when the Lord came to seek and find
he never said the beggar isn't mine
he shared his love to us like a mother
that we may know and care for each other
some other time, you'll see me there
please give a hand to show you care

BUSA JEREMIAH WENOGO

IT is overwhelming when one tries to comprehend the pace of development taking place in Port Moresby.

A drive around the city gives a clear impression of the huge level of investment the national government is putting into the Papua New Guinea capital in the hope of transforming it into one of the best cities in the Pacific.

The amount of money spent so far has already reached the billon kina mark. The much talked about flyover at Erima is alone costing K800 million.

This is just one of the many huge impact projects that the government through the National Capital District Commission (NCDC) is embarking on.

Initially the hype around the city was greatly optimistic as residents were hopeful of the positives that would come out of the planned developments.

However, recent cases of forced eviction have brought anxiety and confusion into the minds of residents. Many people are now beginning to wonder what the future holds for them.

It is clear that, while these developments are long overdue, they are bringing many problems, the magnitude of which is greater because the city has continuously suffered from poor planning since independence.

The city is now in the middle of a major housing crisis with settlements outpacing formal development and occupying most of the state owned land. Sudden injections in the form of big developments have resulted in many of these settlers being made homeless.

There are countless public servants and working class people who are resorting to settlements due to being priced out of the rental market.

Even public servants with genuine and clear land titles do not have access to basic services such as water and electricity.

Two years ago my family and I moved to Erima after I managed to secure a mortgage over a house there. Although the house was a decent high post three-bedroom place, there was no water running even though we had a bathroom and toilet.

Nevertheless, faced with limited opportunities, we had no choice but to move in and do the best we could. Regardless of the huge costs we would have to bear, we saw this as God’s blessing.

To me it was a one in a million chance for me to get a house with a state title at a bargain price. After we moved in we were told by our neighbours that the only means of accessing water was to walk to the main road and fetch it from common taps.

But we found that water flows through the taps only at certain times of the day, 6-9 in the morning, 12-1 in the afternoon and 6-9 in the evening. There is no exception and mothers, children, fathers, youths, the elderly, employed and unemployed carry bucketloads of water day in and day out from the roadside taps to their houses.

For the few living near the road, distance is not a problem. However the majority have to negotiate the heat of the sun and oncoming vehicles when heading home.

Already a couple of accidents have occurred. One involved a child who, while waiting for his mother, was hit by an oncoming vehicle. Fortunately quick action by the community resulted in the child being rushed to the hospital to receive treatment.

I often wonder what the travelling public think of us when they see people struggling to find water in the heart of the city.

The sight of mothers, fathers and children armed with water containers and convoying it back to their homes is surely a sight that no right thinking government would want to entertain.

Port Moresby as the capital city of Papua New Guinea should portray an image of a city that is setting a benchmark in terms of development.

But this scenario makes me realise that this government does not care for its people and I now to understand the hopelessness that I see in the eyes of the people who live here.

This problem is not confined to Erima, of course, but is widespread and includes 8 Mile, 9 Mile, ATS and other parts of the city.

Given that these areas are home to the majority of city residents one can imagine the magnitude and complexity of the problem.

A couple of days after we moved in, I was informed by neighbours that water had not been a problem until recently when the Eda Ranu (Our Water) utility decided to reduce water pressure due to illegal connections and the ensuing “out of control” water bills.

While I acknowledged Eda Ranu’s move to cut costs, I feel that the State failed me miserably as a land title holder.

I came to the conclusion that nothing would happen in the near future and purchased a 4,500 litre water tank for my family’s use. Given the large size of my family the water runs out quickly and it costs me K330 a month for a water company to refill the tank.

I consider myself lucky but I feel for the majority of people in the community, especially babies, kids and mothers who need water on a regular basis.

Last week I read about NCDC’s plan to inspect houses in the city to make sure residents conform to certain acceptable hygiene and health standards.

I commend the Commission for this initiative, however I see a problem.

Although many ratepayers are willing to pay for garbage collection, the services cannot get to our houses due to poor roads. As a result, I had to dig up the remaining portion of the land at the back of my house to dump the family rubbish.

Other people put rubbish into plastic bags and either burn them or discard them on the side of the road.

There is now a mountain at the back of our house we have to climb to dump our rubbish. The last time I checked, this place was overflowing with rubbish. Oh dear!

I observe the development taking place around Erima. The flyover and Erima junction roundabout currently under construction and people like me who have titles hope they will open up opportunities for Erima to become an attractive suburb.

However, for the majority of landless settlers, these developments are bringing anxiety and confusion given that eviction follows whenever there is development in our city.

The Paga Hill and the Erima Junction incidents show us what the government can do in pursuit of development.

We have read and seen on TV what the government has in store for settlers in 8 Mile, 9 Mile and Burns Peak but so far there has been nothing said about Erima.

In the information vacuum, residents are bombarded with so much speculation and rumour but I remain skeptical until I get some sort of clarification from the horse’s mouth.

As a citizen born and raised in Port Moresby, I have high hopes for the city and I am proud of the development that is taking place. To me it is a breath of fresh air after so many years of stagnation.

However, being a family man, I worry about the future of my community.

Every day as I walk around Port Moresby or pass across the new Erima flyover I ask myself, “Modernisation at whose expense?” I guess only time will tell.

RAYMOND GIRANA | Catholic Reporter

BISHOP Rochus Tatamai of Bereina Diocese has called upon various arms of government to take the lead in assisting remote communities in the mountains of Goilala in the Central Province.

Social services such as health, education and pastoral presence are needed in these areas. Missionaries, public servants and ordinary people have died over the years trying to provide services to the people in the mountains while travelling on small planes.

“There is no other way around for places like Guari-Kamulai, Fane, Ononghe, Jongai and Kerau, but through flying into the mountains on small planes”, Bishop Rochus said.

Bishop Rochus raised his concern following a September plane crash 300 metres from Mt Lawes near the Hiritano Highway.

The crash killed four people and left five survivors including a diocesan priest from Bereina.

While the Catholic Church is present in the area, it is not capable of delivering all the needed services due to limited resources.

“Priests, teachers and health workers can only do so much and they can only cope with so much for so long”, Bishop Rochus said.

He also expressed that political will and leadership, commitment and action is needed in the Goilala electorate so the people can feel they are included in the development of Papua New Guinea.

“It is for this reason that we are calling upon the various arms of government to take the lead and we will surely complement”, Bishop Rochus said.

JIMMY AWAGL

THREE infants died when a semi-permanent house burned to ashes on Monday night at Gera village on the Highlands Highway in Simbu Province.

Two young mothers aged 25 left their homes for a card game the next house just 15 meters away when the nightmare began.

Two five month old babies and a five year old child were on a common bed asleep when it is believed a nearby hurricane lamp caused the fire.

It is thought an outstretched arm or leg tipped the lamp over, spilling kerosene over the mattress.

The flames set the mattress alight and quickly spread to the pitpit wall.

The fire soon engulfed the building with flames and smoke so thick that no-one could rescue the kids.

It seems the mothers were engrossed in their card game and did not hear the children’s screams. There was also heavy rain at the time.

Rescuers were able to search through the ashes after about three hours and discovered nothing but the five year olds’ arm and shoulder.

The families also lost property worth thousands of kina and a kitchen also used as a piggery which went up in flames killing their pigs.

After the tragic incident was reported to the police, the CID detained the two mothers for further questioning. 

HARRY WEST

Graham Taylor, A Kiap’s Story: A decade in the life and work of an Australian Patrol Officer in the Kokoda, Madang, New Britain, New Ireland and Sepik Regions of Papua New Guinea 1948-1958, ISBN: 978-1502703453, 402 pages, including illustrations. Pukpuk Publishing.  Available from Amazon Books, Paperback $20, Kindle $4.66

AT 92, and as one of the very few surviving kiaps who served throughout the 30 year Trusteeship period in Papua New Guinea between the Pacific War’s end in 1945 and Independence in 1975, and having read scores of books on New Guinea, I did not expect at this late stage to come upon such a gem as this one.

Australia’s initial reluctant involvement in the New Guinea region was totally a strategic and defence consideration and, in prolonged and harsh economic times, development had a very low priority.

In 1945, apart from a narrow coastal fringe and the island regions (ravaged by the war), most of Papua New Guinea remained in its stone-age slumber, substantially undisturbed by external world influences.

Then followed only 30 years of Australian administration, under United Nations Trusteeship Council direction, to independence – an extraordinarily short time to meld hundreds of mutually hostile, linguistically divided primitive tribes into a nation.

Rapid decolonisation was a high UN priority, but at the grass roots level a vast gap had to be closed. Australia expanded its scant pre-war administrative services as quickly as human and material resources permitted.

The kiaps and their detachments of indigenous police, who patrolled into partly and totally uncontrolled areas and remained amongst the people on patrol posts in early pacification days, were the totality of government.

In parochial habitation almost no-one ventured beyond their tribal boundaries in a lifetime. Fighting with neighbours over land was endemic, fear of attack was ever pervasive, sorcery was rife, people remained isolated.

The kiap and his police detachment brought hitherto unknown law and order with a unifying, stable, impartial alternative to brute force and savagery and constant fear.

Graham Taylor was a product of the Australian School of Pacific Administration on Middle Head in Sydney. ASOPA evolved at the Pacific war’s end from the School of Civil Affairs, which was established in 1944 with much foresight by the Army’s Directorate of Research to train patrol officers for the post war reconstruction and development of Papua New Guinea.

It is here that his story begins and he skilfully weaves the relevance of law, anthropology, colonial administration and other subjects into the practical field work descriptions that follow.

Some 1,500 post-war kiaps passed through ASOPA over 30 years and from here their strong fraternity and bonding developed.

The author’s 10 years as a patrol officer in the early days of trusteeship were in five different regions of Papua New Guinea - whose geography is just as diverse as its people - from the idyllic blue waters and white sands of the New Ireland coast to the Guam River swamps where the inhabitants endured an unbelievably harsh, miserable, disease ridden existence.

Graham’s accounts of day to day work and life are vital and captivating.  He was lucky to have served twice under legendary District Commissioner Ian Downs OBE who went to New Guinea in the depression of the late 1930s when his entire Navy Cadet Course was sacked on graduation.

Taylor writes skilfully and reflectively more than 50 years after he lived his story, with an outstanding communications career in between. He introduces humour, his prose is vibrant, he tells it all.  He makes history live.

Fundamentally the relationship between Papua New Guinea and Australia has always been very close. At Independence in 1975 the first Governor General, Sir John Guise observed we are lowering the Australian flag, not tearing it down.

The part played by the kiap and his police detachment in achieving inter-tribal peace will always remain significant in Papua New Guinean history.

Well could it be remembered by a joint project of the Papua New Guinea and Australian Governments in the form of a national memorial, such as an academic institution, a sporting complex or a public building of national significance.

Harry West OAM was a District Commissioner in the Territory of Papua New Guinea

THOMAS OKUN

An entry in the Rivers Prize for
Writing on Peace & Harmony

THIS poem recites methods used in traditional times in the highlands provinces to achieve and maintain peace it.

The bird of paradise plumes were an important form of wealth. Even very important activities such as payment of brides price was done with plumes.

Moka is an elaborate and prolonged public ceremony that involves giving away large numbers of pigs and amounts of food to make peace.

In times past,
Life was like a scent grandpa could smell.
It was a must,
for him to discriminate it well.

When a spear was raised,
Grandpa smelt the blood his tribe faced.
Alas! The treasure bundle must o bequeath a paradise plume or two,
And a kina shell to hang on the chest too.

If a stone axe was sharpened,
Grandpa smelt plundering destruction,
In finery a bride must be adorned,
and sent away for an unknown warrior’s satisfaction.

If yodelling rang on the mountain tops,
Grandpa smelt rivalry,
So he must harness pigs and crops,
to make a moka as was customary.

And if the peace season returned,
Grandpa made haste to accumulate wealth,
With which his tribe he must defend,
Since for this alone he was born, he felt.

GARY JUFFA

LET me explain. It was quoted that someone in Oro mentioned, "Gavna pairap pairap olsem klaut i pairap tasol nogat rain pundaun!"

[The Governor’s very angry, like thunder without rain.]

Yet another critic. I welcome critics. They fuel my fire, keep me going, keep me burning.

I guess I had not done enough to tell people what I was doing; it just wasn't in my nature.

I tasked the Oro Administration to report on our achievements and what we were doing, but perhaps they were too busy and it never happened.

Well it was my fault, the buck stops at the top and I didn’t follow up.

Also we had diverted available funds to our Disaster Readiness Capacity so we could respond quickly to catastrophe. Saving lives was more important than informing people.

That said, It is always an awesome feeling  to witness the materialisation of your hard work.

The Four Bridges Project is a combined Australia-PNG government enterprise with a budget of more than K400 million to construct the four main bridges in Oro washed away by Cyclone Guba’s terrible floods in 2007. 

It took six long months to walk this process through various government departments in Waigani to get it off the ground. There had been assistance pledged by the Australian and PNG governments in 2007 followed by years of inaction by the Provincial Administration and the then elected leaders of Oro.

A promise was made in 2007 that no one acted to make happen until 2012 when I was elected. I hate to beat my chest but I could not help be proud that I had achieved my first goal on a long list of changes I wanted to deliver for Oro upon taking office.

It all started with the first day of parliament. I believe I asked the first question of the Ninth Parliament. Or so I was advised by Chief Secretary Sir Manasupe Zurenuoc who likes to keep such snippets of information.

After the first session was adjourned I made a bee line for deputy prime minister Leo Dion and presented him with a letter to start the process of making those bridges a reality.

He reacted swiftly and well from that day to this. From the day the first pylons were erected until now has been an amazing journey and my hats go off to the people involved, including the prime minister who, while I sat in his office, called relevant departments and ministers to affirm the urgency of the need to build those bridges.

Others I should mention are Leo Dion, the works minister, the then attorney general, Kerenga Kua, the Australian government, and the secretaries for works, lands, provincial and local level government, CSTB Chairman, State Solicitor, and the Offices of the Prime Minister, Chief Secretary, NEC, members of the NEC and finally the Governor General.

How many lives were lost because of no access to vital services since the bridges were washed away? Children, pregnant mothers and the elderly had paid a heavy price.

Many businesses in rural areas had broken down, vital government services were not delivered, my people had suffered too long. Long miserable years. The funds committed stayed exactly where they were and no one did a single thing.

But let’s look forward, in one week – on Wednesday 19th November - we shall finally launch the Four Bridges. Prime minister Peter O’Neill has indicated his attendance as well as many other dignitaries including the Australian High Commissioner, Deborah Stokes.

And I can tick off the first big project of my to do list since taking office.

I am working on many other projects for the province and nation - good governance, transparent procurement, public service review, national security policy, SABLs, taxation review,  West Papua, global warming, saving the rainforests. All work now in progress.

The journey is hard and seems gruelling but there are moments when I feel the satisfaction that makes it worth it.

Yes, even my critics and their families will benefit…and that’s good too. We are one big Papua New Guinean tribe, all singing in the rain and listening to the thunder!

Gary Juffa MP is Governor of Oro Province. Photos: Simon Eroro

PHILIP G KAUPA

An entry in the Rivers Prize for
Writing on Peace & Harmony

I feel that it is worth appreciating some special individuals and groups of people who, behind the scenes, spend their time and energy praying for our country, Papua New Guinea.

If you are one of them, entreating and praying, you have a patriotic heart and God will bless you abundantly.

Let me take a moment to show you some of the results of your prayers:

1. There are possibilities of genocide, but one never happened in PNG

2. Regardless of pressing current economic issues, our economy is stable,

3. Despite reshuffling of ministers and controversy about instability, our government is politically stable

4. Not one of our neighbours awoke this morning to a huge bomb explosion or gunshots like in the Middle East

5. Unlike other countries that experience raging religious conflict, PNG has an easy-going freedom of religion

6. Natural disasters rarely occur and death tolls and property loss are much less than in other nations

7. Rape cases and armed robberies are gradually declining

These are some positive outcomes, but you can think of many more by looking around. You can see the impact of prayer.

The Lord said, "If you ask me for anything in my name I will do it" (John 14:14). And yes, your prayers are answered.

Compared to other countries, Papua New Guinea is fairly OK.

But we do very much need to work on two deadly cancers affecting our country.

We need to help each other in prayer and fight for the transformation of our attitudes and the total eradication of corruption.

The Americans write, "In God we trust", on their currency notes and we say, "PNG em Kristen kantri" as one of our identities.

The question here is whether we all truly live up to this saying? I don't think so.

There are some people who bear our burden by holding high the umbrella of Christianity and protecting us from the many evil forces of destruction. These are our patriotic  prayer warriors.

Whether they are in our homes, churches, neighbourhoods, or far away, I feel the need to appreciate and encourage them.

They are doing something for us as individuals and their prayers are working for the good of this nation.

If possible, at least we should unite and pray too for a harmonious and peaceful PNG.

If you have been praying for some time, for whatever reason, keep praying because your prayers will be answered.

God is always listening. If you do not pray, well, it’s good to pray for goodness sake.

God is great and God is with us.

KEITH JACKSON

I was sharing a beer with a Papua New Guinean politician not long ago when I casually asked what proportion of PNG members of parliament he reckoned were either corrupt or silent fellow travellers of corruption.

He sat quietly for a while, counting on his fingers. It soon became clear he was tallying up the good guys.

“About 90% – the bad ones or the ones who know a lot and say nothing,” the MP said.

At this time, 15 members of the 111 member national parliament are under investigation for corruption and other ‘white collar’ crimes.

That’s about 13%. But it doesn’t count the ones who say nothing.

That’s according to the head of the PNG Police National Fraud and Anti-Corruption Directorate, Chief Superintendent Matthew Damaru.

Damaru has released the name of only one of them, Maprik MP John Simon (pictured), who has been charged with two counts of false pretences and 38 counts of official corruption.

Over the past two years, three MPs have been successfully prosecuted for financial crimes.

"The level of fraud and corruption in the country has risen from 10 or 15 years ago,” Damaru told Radio New Zealand International.

“So with the MPs being investigated it's an indication there's corruption at all levels of society - public service, even in the private sector and the grass roots."

With the fraud detectives hot on their heels, there may be a couple of dozen or more PNG politicians who are not resting comfortably at the moment.

LEONARD FONG ROKA

DURING September’s Crocodile Prize event in Port Moresby, I was asked by people from the media and communications division of the Autonomous Bougainville Government (ABG) to visit their office in Buka bringing with me my curriculum vitae.

Upon arriving in Bougainville a month later, I sat down with executive officer Robert Anesia in his office near the Buka airport terminal and he briefed me on what his communications division was doing.

After our chat, he took my papers and told me to wait for a few days.

It was during this period that the Chief Administrator of Bougainville sent me a text message offering me a position as research officer with his office.

So I am now research officer in the Office of the ABG’s Chief Secretary.

The ABG recently underwent a restructuring of its fiscal and monetary management to attract Bougainvilleans back home to help develop their homeland.

My department alone will have about 100 vacancies on offer for Bougainvilleans as we prepare for the referendum to decide our island’s political future.

So there will be the positions created by the ABG but the infrastructure, especially housing, is a massive problem.

The ABG has grown greatly since it was created in 2005, and so has the need for housing to accommodate its labour force.

But it’s only now that the ABG planning department is initiating its housing project for public servants.

As a new employee of ABG, I have no government homestead where I can spend my idle hours and weekends.

Like most of my workmates, I am provided with a housing allowance to find somewhere to live. But the landlords of Buka town have some of the worst properties you’ve seen outside of a hospital morgue.

So my office gives me a K750 per month for housing and I am scavenging the town for accommodation while I live with my uncle who is head of the Internal Revenue Commission’s (IRC) Bougainville office.

Early one morning last week, I left Sohano Island where he lives and marched around the whole of Buka township.

I walked the dusty and shimmering streets looking for an ideal spot for me and my wife and daughter (when they visit from Buin where my wife is teaching).

Late in the afternoon I crossed the Buka Passage to look around Kokopau township on the northern tip of the big island of Bougainville.

All I found was nothing.

Every guesthouse had rooms for transit purposes and not for longer-term rent. And for the available amount of K750, every free room was a slum.

Rooms with no ventilation and overcrowded with the owner’s family and dogs. Most of them located at the back of the town on reclaimed land amongst mangroves and the uncompromisingly foul smell of marshland.

It was a swamp infested with flies and mosquitoes; noisy on weekends when the boozing culture hits a peak and with the same ambience as any peripheral, sub-class urban area in the world.

All places of comfortable standard rent for more than K1,000 a month but I am caught in the K750 trap of the ABG.

I found a room in a poorly-kept property owned by a Buka businessman which was also home to his family and extended family who used a common toilet and shower.

The moment I entered, I hated the place and next morning our secretary agreed that such quarters were not appropriate for a man of my stature.

The secretary said he’d order the property officer to initiate a search but the property officer has not been seen around here for a while.

So I am locked on Sohano Island residing against my wishes with my uncle, Robert Perakai. He arrived here in 2001 and was given a home only in the middle of last year.

This is how public servants in Bougainville have to struggle with housing as we apply ourselves to help our government progress with its political and economic agenda to build the Republic of Bougainville we shed tears and blood and died for.

GEORGE KUIAS

IT would take Angela, from Bur village on the border of Nuku (Sandaun) and Ambunti (East Sepik), almost seven hours to get medical attention at the nearest health centre in Mirsey.

She started walking at five o’clock in the morning with assistance from the village birth attendant, Vero, and her husband, Michael.

Angela had experienced labour pains for three days and decided not to deliver at home.

On the way, Angela would stop and grab trees or vines as support to withstand the labour pains.

The membrane that kept baby’s floating in the womb ruptured due to pressure. The baby’s head kept on pressing down the pelvis.

Despite the pain of the contractions, Angela tried her best to reach the health centre.

Michael decided to go ahead to seek help from the nurses at Mirsey health centre. Upon his arrival he noticed there was only one male nurse; the other two were out on patrol.

Without notifying the male nurse, Michael went back to meet Angela and Vero.

While Michael was away seeking help, Angela found she could no longer walk and, halfway between the village and the health centre, she told Vero to find a safe, dry place to deliver the child.

Vero did as instructed and Angela gave birth to a male with assistance from Vero. The baby’s umbilical cord was tied with sewing thread and cut off using a razor blade.

As Michael was returning, from the distance he heard a baby’s cry and knew that Angela had given birth. When he arrived he helped clean the baby while Vero delivered the placenta.

Angela then suggested they continue to the health centre for a check-up and to receive any medications but Michael rebuffed her. The couple argued at the delivery scene.

Refusing to accept the comments and criticisms from Michael, Angela made up her mind to seek medical treatment and, with Vero, continued on her way to the health centre.

Michael followed behind and then caught up with them, shouting angrily at Angela, “There are no nurses available, only one male nurse taking care of the centre. What are you trying to prove?”

“But I need proper check-up,” replied Angela.”

“Forget it, why check, you delivered well and you’re not bleeding. If you refuse my command I will come after you and chop you and that male nurse,” shouted Michael.

In fear, Angela turned and headed back home.

After two weeks she became ill and, refusing to seek medical treatment because of her husband’s jealous anger, prescribed herself local herbs.

Shortly after, Angela died due to puerperal sepsis and her baby died a week later from neonatal sepsis.

BENITA BAGASEL

It’s a long, rough, stretchy road
The road that has brought so much talk
in the old times and at present
The road that can make or break a person
The road that changed from informal to formal

It was free in the days of grass skirts and bare-chested women
Today it costs the skin on the back of a fisherman
And the sweat from the forehead of mother in the market
Just so Ranu can join other children in the tin roof building

What happened to the leaders we voted for?
What happen to the promise of good roads, good schools,
that they fashioned themselves with during their beg for votes
What happened? What happened?
Another load of mauswara we find ourselves drenched in

Mother still carrying her bilum tracking the bush road
to the nearest main road to sell her produce
Young children still die from preventable diseases
Young men resort to the illegal and the fast money
Young women vulnerable to rich men’s sweet talk

This is simply because of lack of information
Today information comes at a cost
Who says information is free?
Are you sure?

To have access to information one must read and write
To read and write, one must go to school.
To go to school, one must be able to pay,
To pay one must have a source of income
To have a source of income, one must be employed.

All in all everything comes at a cost
Life itself is a monopoly

AGNES RITA MAINEKE

An entry in the Rivers Prize for
Writing on Peace & Harmony

THE Grade 8 exams had come to an end by half past eleven on the Thursday and some of the girls had already planned their celebration of the milestone.

Whether they had done well or not wasn’t a criterion; just that they had completed their exams.

The first celebration venue was in the bushes along the old Airport Road.

One of the girls had bought a bottle of homebrew with money they had collected.

As soon as they finished lunch, which their mothers had brought, they made a bee-line for the rendezvous.

As they sat in their hideout, slowly sipping the jungle-juice, the girl who was their lookout kept watch to see if anyone came.

Kakiiri the lookout had just poked her head out and jumped back into the bushy encampment when the examination invigilator and head teacher came by.

She thought she had not been recognised, yet the sharp, old eye of their head teacher had spotted her first.

As the two teachers drew nearer, the invigilator remarked to the head teacher, “Perhaps there are some men or boys drinking. Will it be safe for us with these papers?”

“Oh, no!” said the head teacher. “I think I recognised her. It’s a Grade 8 girl from my school.”

When they reached the spot where Kakiiri had poked her head out the head teacher called, “Kakiiri, are you there?”

Getting no response, she took a few steps into the bushes and saw the group of girls sitting on the matted grass.

One lay face down, perhaps already overcome by the toxic brew. Or maybe she just wished to hide.

The head teacher inquired, “What on earth are you girls doing here?”

They replied. “We’re just celebrating a little bit….”

“Please return to your homes,” the head teacher directed.

Then the two teachers left.

After the teachers had delivered the examination answer sheets to the District Office, they parted and the head teacher returned to Turiboiru.

At that time the school community was participating in the Marian month of October. By seven o’clock that night prayers ended and the head teacher returned home, which was in total darkness signalling the absence of her two sons.

As she began calling their names she noticed the light of a cigarette over near the classrooms.

She moved towards the point of light and came upon the same group of girls she had chided for drinking earlier.

She told them they should not be drinking within the school grounds and retraced her steps to her house, thinking that this time they would heed her advice.

However, their teacher’s daughter had also joined the celebration, so the teacher accepted that they could to stay around her house.

Earlier in the day they had planned to bake buns for a class fundraising drive but the plan had to be abandoned because the girls were in no fit state to be handling food.

The teacher did not foresee that trouble was in store for them that night.

As the youngsters continued imbibing, the noise increased in volume. It reached the ears of a male teacher who was a member of the Board of Management and did not look favourably upon the actions of the students.

He called a member of the Board who lived in the same village as two of the girls. The chief was notified and he sped to the school accompanied by other youths from the village.

They trooped straight to the residence of the Grade 8 teacher and began getting abusive about the drunken girls.

About 30 minutes after their arrival, they forced the two girls back to the village, one howled so loudly you could hear her a mile away.

But the night was not over yet. Two other female teachers were under the Grade 8 teacher’s house and all had something to say about the arrival of the chief and his cohorts.

Their anger was directed against the male teacher who had called the chief and they and the Grade 8 teacher confronted him.

It became another screaming match until the male teacher threw a piece of charcoal at the vociferous females which abruptly shocked them to stop shouting.

Once again the head teacher arrived on the scene after the heat of the argument had subsided. She informed them they would resolve the problems on the morrow.

Friday dawned but, perhaps due to the previous night’s activities, most of the staff were late reporting for duty.

The reconciliation was to be held in the presence of the Board of Management. Unfortunately the Grade 8 teacher was nowhere in sight, so the sitting was postponed to the next day.

On Saturday, the arrival of the Chairman prompted the head teacher to go to the concerned teachers’ residences and notified them that they should all gather.

Despite pleadings from the head teacher, the Grade 8 teacher was adamant in her refusal to attend the reconciliation.

So what could the head teacher do? One cannot force another to reconcile if their heart is still filled with anger or self-pity.

Monday dawned and it was time to resume work.

As the staff arrived the head once again broached the subject of reconciliation. All those present agreed that peace should be made for they could not pretend to try to work together as a team.

This time another teacher approached the Grade 8 teacher who agreed to attend the ‘pow-wow’. All seven staff members were present, but no Board members.

Perhaps this eased the teacher’s anger. The Board had caused disruption when it sent the chief to intervene.

After a short prayer and the Lord’s Prayer, the head teacher explained the procedure.

There was only one ground rule. That was each person would speak only when it was their time. No-one was allowed to interrupt while someone else was speaking.

Every person in this type of conflict resolution would discern thth own mistake and feel sorry for it and then be able to say sorry to whoever had been wronged.

There would be no winner or loser. All would find peace and harmony through forgiveness and understanding of their mistakes.

The proceedings lasted about two hours. At the conclusion each of those concerned was able to say sorry without reserve.

So, thank God, peace returned and everyone put their right hands together to resume their peaceful and harmonious journey until the end of the 2014 school year. 

WARDLEY DESMOND BARRY-IGIVISA

An entry in the Rivers Prize for
Writing on Peace & Harmony

Good old days and my good old tumbuna, they ever soar the skies together,
Like steady streams kissing the banks as it flows down spirit-filled ridges.
The latter wears away as the bond between them grows deeper;
The former desires to hurt not, but love, at heart, hurts nevertheless.

This perennial love between water and land brushes on to the men
And women who eat from the land and drink from its steady streams,
While pain flies before them as they chase their youthful, picayune yen;
For pain and pleasure are one, so are labor and love, defeats and dreams.

We find warriors and warlords where defeats and dreams meet,
Where the rivers of the forests clash with the tumults of gigantic waves.
There we see a new sun rise from the west, our beautiful dreams to greet,
As the eastern light retires, like my tumbuna, into forlorn shadows of the grave.

To the grave also goes the melody that soars across the gulf of friend and foe,
The music that burns songs of legends and love in angelic familial choir,
When the strife of yesterday is forgotten for the serenity and stillness of tomorrow;
Today, through many nights, we dance as one to thumps of kundus by the fire.

On the fire are pigs, fatted by years of our mamas’ hard toil and pikininis heavy tears.
Shields and spears, bows and arrows, and sacred masks fuel golden flames,
Flames that burn every heart and make friends of foes, and fun from fears.
Here we stand. And just as the water is one with the earth, so are our names.

My daughter from deep oceans, your son from high mountains and thick forests;
Hand in hand, heart in heart, embracing passionately in the cold dark night.
Ah, how my bowels rejoice! These tears, they flow like streams; not from unrests,
But you who should thrust a spear to my heart with might have touched my heart with light!

Alas, my tumbuna and his days! Where have they gone who shine from the east!
What has the tube done but bring more shadows to my heart and strife to my home?
No longer does the moonlight bring joy – we have colored lights and drunken feasts.
And what is home when faces and books and Facebook make you scream alone?

When our screams aren’t heard, we lay down bravery and bows for betrayals and bullets,
Where our bond was strengthened over “poly” pigs we now revel under politics.
We no longer dance with tanget leaves; there are printed papers and naked strumpets.
The warrior – where is he? We call our chiefs those with potbellies and broken speech.

Ah, the good old days and my good old tumbuna! Are they gone by faith or fate?
Should they ever go together? Once, from mountains apart and oceans wide could be heard
The sounds of bamboo pipes and garamuts, but now my screams molest not my best mate.
They say unless we love words, we could never be heard. But tearful streams are louder than words.

Glossary

Garamuts– drums made from hollowed wood
Kundus -  drums made from animal skins and hollowed wood
Pikininis– children
Tanget– leaves sometimes used for dancing
Tumbuna– ancestor

KEITH JACKSON

THE Global Witness organisation was blunt in its effort to (rightly) bring pressure on the Papua New Guinea government's SABL antics before this week’s rainforest conference in Australia.

Global Witness campaigns to expose the 'economic networks behind conflict, corruption and environmental destruction'.

“The PNG government has blithely ignored its citizen’s constitutional rights to their land,” said an official, Rick Jacobsen.

“[It] is allowing the decimation of forests of critical importance - both for local health and livelihoods and for keeping global atmospheric carbon at safe levels.

“The PNG delegation has a lot to hide at today’s rainforest summit,” he said.

But it seems that Global Witness and other NGOs failed to connect with those Papua New Guineans who had made the effort to travel to Sydney to try to turn bluster into action.

The summit was billed as a ‘meeting of minds’ for ministers from forest nations, donor countries, corporate leaders and NGOs. It was supposed to focus on practical action to reduce forest loss.

Present in Sydney, amongst other Papua New Guineans seeking support to protect the nation's forests, was Governor Gary Juffa.

He was hoping to draw attention to PNG’s problems of “widespread abuse, fraud, lack of coordination, failure and official incompetence to ensure compliance, accountability and transparency” in relation to forest exploitation.

But Global Witness and the other NGOs didn’t appear to be there for Governor Juffa and his mates.

“No presentations allowed from Pacific Islands affected by illegal logging,” the governor tweeted. “Discussions highly diplomatic and muted. Real issues avoided.

“The Asia Pacific Rainforest Summit should be renamed The Asia Rainforest Summit as no Pacific Islands were represented.”

PNG is home to the world’s third largest area of tropical rain forests and the Papua New Guineans were hoping to garner international support to pressure the O'Neill government to uphold its much delayed promise to cancel several controversial land leases which are denuding vast areas of natural forest.

“Despite some token actions earlier this year, the situation on the ground in PNG is getting worse, not better,” said Rick Jacobsen.

Well, Global Witness and other NGOs ought to be more assiduous in connecting with their PNG colleagues to get some action happening that may lead to a productive outcome.

To this end, they could do a lot worse than talk to Governor Juffa, preferably at his home Oro Province where he is facing serious problems of rainforest plunder.

FIDELIS SUKINA

An entry in the Rivers Prize for
Writing on Peace & Harmony

Empathy holds fort the understanding for love and respect,
To understand is to know, to feel and to share,
We stay stubborn and find no space to empathise,
We hold grudges and plot a cursed revenge,

What are the positive changes you’ve made, after revenge?
Life moves on for us, but souls of the dammed strive for peace which even vespers, cannot offer,
Woe is me, if I be a remorseful person, why must my act of good will go unpraised, but your act in time of the afflicted was shameful,
Quit your pride and see how society is cruel, it makes you watch but yet feel guilty as a victim is beaten, a mother is robbed,

The horror, the horror, you feel helpless unaccomplished and left to live with yourself with the guilt of,
Ignorance,
How’s than do your kinsmen see you, but a bluff on a pulpit on Sunday service, actions speak louder than words,
Sticks and stones, that’s what all maiden men say after a drink up, they all want to brag,

When you turn a blind eye and boast of what might have been, you look like a bogus excuse of a worthy human being,
Stand up and see how your country is acting PNG, the shame of society oozes in every citation of ignorance,
We infiltrate for revenge but lack the courage to prevent and comfort to share a moment with the victim,
Empathy must prevail, and peace shall run high for the population once more.  

PHILIP G KAUPA

WAY up in the highlands it stands, an almost legendary land of rugged terrain, fast flowing rivers and magical views where the earth meets the sky.

A land its forefathers knew for the rock that dwelt amongst the soil.

Rocks that are the building blocks of the highest peaks; that are sacred; that today bear two cloudy lakes, Piunde and Aunde, once part of the Pacific ring of fire.

Below its misty forest canopy and its icy mountains, its warrior tribes united saw the light the missionaries brought and tasted the salt the kiaps brought.

Standing  the test of time they inherited cultural diversity and shared languages that slightly vary and practice similar traditional ways.

It is a place known for its majestic birds of paradise and its spectacular costume. The home of ancestral karim leg and annual pig killing ceremonies.

With pride and dignity, the forefathers stood tall; bow and arrow in one hand, shield in the other. Their unique war cry they sang for knowledge and prosperity .

With arms crossed at chest and heads up, the fathers sang high are we, it is where we belong, the highest place is ours. From the rocks we rise, never to fall. We shall manoeuvre and prosper like fast streams through rocks.

Despite the landscape, and the blood and sweat, this is a place where the natives greet with open arms, friendly smile, a hand shake and a hug. A place where there is fullness of greetings and maximum appreciation.

From the simple garden hut to a complex men’s house, along the slopes and over the hills and peaks, by the river and along the road, they gather.

Simplicity is their way of life. Disadvantaged by mountains, agriculture always was difficult.

But its sons and daughters gathered and listened, they saw a common goal, education.

They listened to their fathers war cry, they saw written on the stones the lyrics of their songs, words of courage and words of honour, words of a warrior.

They saw the battle plan, a simple plan about humbleness, politeness, pride, leadership - and knowledge.

This is not mere hope, it is their birth right. The ones who listened with their heart grew wings and flew high to bring forth knowledge. It is the only wealth their fathers sought, it is found in education.

This is a song sung by their forefathers. It is a song of appreciation of good deeds and with their heart they sing, Sippuu! Sippuu! Sippuu!. Today this place is called Simbu.

A place of rocks, a place of mountains, a place of the fast rivers, a place of the forests and a place of simple, friendly people with open arms and a good heart.

Come and see this place, Simbu.

MICHAEL GEKETA

An entry in the Rivers Prize for
Writing on Peace & Harmon

Oh triumphant Bougainville, you stand the test of time
Say no to gifts, for they leads to hand-out mentality

Oh sovereign Bougainville, your challenges aren’t over
Say no to dependency, for it leads to exploitation

Oh progressive Bougainville, nothing must impede your way
Say no to double-thought, for it leads to regression

Oh scrutinised Bougainville, take it as a challenge
Say no to seclusion, for it leads to suffering

Oh struggling Bougainville, it is a measure of your growth
Say no to carefreeness, for it leads to liability

Oh political Bougainville, seek cohesion for solidarity
Say no to character-assassination, it leads to disintegration

Oh economic Bougainville, expound frugality for economic miracle
Say no to apathy, for it leads to a beggar syndrome

Oh communal Bougainville, embrace patriotism
Say no to egoism, for it leads to dormancy

Oh Christian Bougainville, seek God your fountain
Say no to an arms race, for it leads to rebellion

Oh cultured Bougainville, preserve your identity
Say no to Westernism, so avoid culture shock

Oh visionary Bougainville, think big
Referendum or independence? The fruit of your fight

Oh autonomous Bougainville, avoid complacency
For the journey has only just begun