JUSTICE JOHN LOGAN | Federal Court of Australia

Extract from a paper, Law and Justice in Papua New Guinea, delivered at the Australian Institute of International Affairs (Queensland Branch). Download Justice Logan's full paper here

PAPUA New Guinea’s present population is approximately 7.3 million people. In my experience, this is not widely understood in Australia, even though Papua New Guinea is our nearest neighbour.

Though English, Tok Pisin (Pidgin), and Hiri Motu (the lingua franca of the Papuan region) are the official languages, Papua New Guinea has over 800 known languages.

The challenge of identifying custom which is nationally pervasive so as to adapt English common law as envisaged for the Underlying Law is considerable. What is genuine custom to one language group in one remote village may be unknown to a different language group on a different island.

About 15% of the population live in urban areas such as the capital, Port Moresby and the major provincial cities of Lae, Madang, Wewak, Goroka, Mt Hagen, and Rabaul. The remainder live in traditional village-based life, dependent on subsistence and small cash-crop agriculture.

The capital, Port Moresby, is not linked by road to Papua New Guinea’s other major urban centres. Air and sea transport offer the only direct links. Internet access can be problematic in Port Moresby, not to say expensive, even more so in provincial centres.

Such difficulties in physical and electronic communications complicate the administration of justice. Ever increasingly in Australia, the internet is used by both the judicial and practising branches of the legal profession for communications electronic databases are used for filing of documents and for legal research.

In Papua New Guinea, even when internet access is available, commercially published legal research databases may be prohibitively expensive. To some extent, this is addressed by publicly available databases such as the Pacific Legal Information Institute (PACLII) database and its equivalents elsewhere but these do not contain the full range of law reports, statutes and texts.

Hard copy law libraries which many firms in Australia have come to regard as obsolescent in the electronic age still have a useful role to play in Papua New Guinea. Yet the cost of maintaining these is also expensive, especially with exchange rate fluctuations. 

There has long been a need for expansion of the court house facilities in Waigani and upgrading of provincial court houses and judge’s residences in provincial centres.

Even in developed countries, governments often give such expenditures a lower priority than other needs such as health or transport or public utility infrastructure. In Papua New Guinea, the opportunity cost of such facilities is much more magnified.

Even so, Papua New Guinea’s Parliament has recently allocated funds which will allow for large scale upgrading works to commence at Waigani and in the provinces.

Australian aid funds have also been directed to the upgrading or expansion of the provincial court house and related criminal justice system infrastructure.

Advances in technology, related lowering of costs and budget allocation has also made it possible for Papua New Guinea to embark upon electronic court reporting and court record keeping. These are tremendous advances over a system which, of necessity, hitherto had Dickensian features.

With economic development and an expanding population has also come a need for a greater number of judges.

Further, amendments have been proposed to the PNG Constitution which will see the establishment of an intermediate appellate court, freeing the Supreme Court of much routine appellate work and allowing it better to focus on its charter of developing Papua New Guinea’s Underlying Law and the disposition, as a final appellate court, of cases of true national importance.

With this expansion comes an increased need for suitably qualified and experienced personnel both in judicial appointments and in the National Judicial Staff Service.

Recruitment for its expanded judiciary and the National Judicial Staff Service will present Papua New Guinea with fresh challenges, as will the replacement on retirement of existing senior judges and registry staff. The challenges are even more magnified if one takes into account the magistracy.

All of this highlights the importance of continuing professional development within Papua New Guinea’s legal profession and the engendering and fostering within the senior ranks of that profession of the ethos of public duty associated with the acceptance of judicial office.

The Honourable Justice Logan RFD is a Judge of the Federal Court of Australia

PAUL WAUGLA WII

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

A mongrel that became a scoundrel
Is now alive and well in high places 
In such esteemed places of pomp and ceremony
Where the satin clad Monsieur
Rules with such simulated gentility and pride

A sombre, elusive character it really is
For it lurks behind every shadow
And yes, it masquerades behind every veil of deception
Lying in wait at every twist and turn
To play its way into the sapphire clad homes
Where the clink and clang of champagne- scented glasses
Where such low music, such crystal chandeliers
Bespeak elegance and sophistication.

Upon that misguided moment
The sombre character is led home to chandelier lit banquets
To wine and dine with the Monsieur’s household
In crimson and velvety sprinkled chambers.

What savage spirit has beguiled your heart?
To trade your immortal gem,
What utter foolishness has consumed your soul?
To mix and mingle with the imposter

Your feet must tread every which way
Till at last we all stumble upon the truth
The truth will lead you home, yes home!
Back to where all things must begin afresh.

Their bells will toll when the skies above them
Is darkened by a stream of sombre cloud
You and I must keep a vigil, shout the truth aloud
Lest we too may stole into the mongrel’s embrace.

CLIVE HAWIGEN

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

“COME on Maoro Turana, you can do this, take us home safely,” ToElias whispered as he shifted to second gear and slid up the muddy hill that once been a perfectly sealed road.

It was a few kilometres past Society and the Toyota Landcruiser 10-seater jumped slightly as it shifted gear. More powerful , it worked up what little courage it had to tackle the hill.

The journey had been a long one for Maoro Turana. Three weeks out of rugged terrain without rest. Now they were finally heading home, half way through the final leg of the journey.

The bushings on the four shock absorbers were gone, and the stabilisers. ToElias felt the pain as metal scraped on metal. The brakes felt weak and the clutch was squishy. All four tyres were worn out and the spare had gone missing.

Although the seriously ill engine provided traction, it would take hours for it to get out of this mud.

Maoro Turana gritted his gears to stop himself screaming in agony, begging for mercy, pleading to stop, praying to be taken to hospital.

ToElias cringed, muttered under his breath, “Aleai!” as metal crashed on metal again as the vehicle hit a deep pothole. “Sorry mate. Be a good boy. Don’t you dare die out on us.”

ToElias spoke gently, gripping the steering wheel but not so hard as to cause more pain, shifting to second then pushing on the accelerator, urging Moaro on, testing the limits.

Somehow Maoro sensed it, became human, pressed on, the engine slowly driving them forward. Although wounded, Maoro Turana was obedient, he listened.

ToElias, with over 20 years of driving experience, knew Maoro would get them home.  In the driver’s seat, he felt it. There was courage in the heart of the machine; it was still capable. But he had doubts. God willing, all the other vitals of Maoro Turana would hold on a bit longer. Five more hours to be precise. He brushed the thought aside.

“Think positive, Maoro will take us home. Think positive,” he thought as he shifted to first, releasing his right foot from the accelerator, clutching down with a slight tap on the brake to avoid a pothole and starting a descent through a dense canopy of pine trees.

The trees meant they had reached PNG Forest Product territory, which meant Bulolo, this part of the journey almost over.

For three weeks they had trekked the rugged roads of outback Wau and Bulolo. Maoro had a mission and, with ToElias as captain, they were responsible for safely transporting the team of doctors, medicines and vaccines stored in their cool boxes, food rations and camping gear.

Dr Jill Waka was team leader. A lanky Kainantu woman, she specialised in public health and headed the team of nurses and community health workers on this patrol.

Jill knew she could count on them to get the job done. Unlike the lazy health workers often found in urban hospitals, her team was dedicated to the cause. They would follow her to hell and back if it meant helping the sick and needy.

They were hardened veterans who had patrolled every village and hamlet in the region no matter how remote and the stories they told bore a testament to that. They rarely complained and they never sought recognitio . They were the doers, the ones who got the job done and were good at it.

Jill was proud to lead this team.

She was happy not be walking this time, she thought.  After the previous patrol, she had been confined to bed, her legs were swollen with infection, muscles and tendons pulled and aching. Even the painkillers hardly helped.

As a highlander, she knew she was born to walk up mountains but nothing had prepared her for the Sarowaged Range. That was a year ago and something she would never forget.

ToElias tapped Jill on her shoulder, rousing her up from her slumber.

“We’re at Bulolo. Do you want to stop to get anything?”

Jill looked in the rear view mirror to check if she resembled neatness. A strand of loose hair was neatly tucked behind an ear. She dabbed little water on her hand and spread it on her dusty face to freshen up.

“Sure ToElias, let’s stop and grab some lunch. Good boy Maoro Turana, we’re almost home,” she patted Maoro on the dashboard.

A 15 minute stop at Namba Wan Stoa for lunch and they continued the journey.

Now on the bitumen, Maoro was cruising. They passed through the notorious Kumalu and almost two hours later crossed the Markham Bridge. They were home.

“Thank you Maoro Turana,” ToElias smiled. His weary hands patted Moaro’s steering wheel.

Maoro responded, keener this time, and pressed on as dusk crept along the Markham River.

LIAM MORGAN | Inside the Games

EVERYWHERE you went in the build-up to the glittering Pacific Games Opening Ceremony in Port Moresby, the mention of the visit of Prince Andrew was never far away.

On the streets of the Papua New Guinean capital, you simply couldn’t escape the fact that the Duke of York was coming to town to open the Games, just as he did back in 1991.

In fact, people were even walking up to me asking if I either knew him or if I had travelled with him due to my clearly-British appearance. I wish.

A large banner, located opposite the central hub of the Games, greeting him and welcoming him to the country also dominated the landscape outside of the city’s main shopping centre.

His appearance at the Sir John Guise Stadium certainly represented a huge coup for Port Moresby 2015 and the Games organisers as a whole, and they certainly made sure they put on an Opening Ceremony fit for royalty.

“I would like to congratulate everyone on a truly spectacular Opening Ceremony,” he said at the beginning of his address to the eager 15,000 people in attendance.

Prince Andrew couldn’t have been more spot on.

Without the glitz and pyrotechnics that other Opening Ceremonies have benefitted from - most recently at the European Games in the Azerbaijani capital of Baku, during which pop star Lady Gaga was reportedly paid $2 million to perform - the production team, led by director Keith Tucker, ensured every single member of the vociferous crowd went home happy.

Packed full of traditional Papua New Guinean culture, music and dancing, the Ceremony provided a perfect platform on which to build a successful Continental Games.

While the sport may have already begun in earnest, it’s fair to say that an event such as Port Moresby 2015 doesn’t truly get going until the final firework has been sent flailing into the sky.

The Organising Committee would have known the importance of sending out the right message as they bid to encapsulate and envelope the nation in a sporting sphere for the next fortnight.

Thankfully, they got it absolutely right as every single aspect of the way of life here in Papua New Guinea was depicted with an elegance and a beauty that left some of the crowd around me unable to control their emotions.

The effervescence of the capacity crowd was there for all to see - the smile on a child's face or the wiping of a tear from an elderly eye watching their proud country be exhibited to the world in dramatic style - and it made for a Ceremony that conveyed a large nod back to the old school.

It was effortlessly simplistic - from the way those performing in the “Sing-Sing” section, a traditional celebration dance, managed to entice the crowd for the best part of an hour to the way the Papua New Guinean flag stood as a proud symbol on the middle of the stage before the athletes were introduced.

But yet it still conveyed that razzmatazz and wow factor that make nights like these unforgettable, with beaming lights and fireworks and everything else you expect to see present in abundance.

Following a pre-show which included a practice countdown for the later arrival of “Team PNG” at the Sir John Guise Stadium, led by MC Steven Dawanincura, as well as the appearance of Pacifici Games mascot Tura, a three-year-old Kokomo, the stage was set for a riveting opening dedicated to the Hiri trade.

The second scene, entitled “Call to Nation,” saw tribal members emerge from the four main towers surrounding the stage - The Momase Tower, the Southern Tower, The New Guinea Island Tower and The Highlands Tower - to fire up the crowd and their official entrance into the Ceremony was just the prelude for things to come.

The singsing section neatly preceded the unveiling of the Papua New Guinea flag, which served as an appetising starter to the main course of the athletes’ parade.

Usually at these type of spectacles, the athletes, who are the focal point of any multi-sport Games anywhere in the world, journey around the track before either taking a seat in the stand or exiting stage left to allow for the Ceremony to resume.

But Port Moresby 2015 wanted to be different.

Instead of doing things the conventional way, they opted to keep the athletes in the central ring of the venue to allow them to watch the remainder of proceedings from close-up.

It made for a superb image of roughly 3,000 athletes and team members all gazing at the stage in unison, seemingly as engrossed in the displays of various elements of Papua New Guinean culture as the lucky 15,000 who had a seat for the big night.

A particular highlight of the parade, aside from some of the striking outfits and unusual dances, was the appearance of Tuvalu, whose journey here has been plagued with difficulties.

Originally, they were due to depart their capital Funafuti last weekend, but cyclones in the region forced the postponement of the boat that was meant to carry the 113-strong delegation, quite some effort from a nation whose population barely breaches 10,000, across to Suva, Fiji.

The obvious question here would be why they didn’t get a direct flight from their island to Papua New Guinea - they do exist after all but the sheer size of their team meant a three-day voyage by boat was the only feasible option.

Following another cancellation to their boat on Monday (June 29), they were finally headed in the right direction the next day, although they were unable to leave until 5pm local time.

This meant they were cutting it fine to make it in time for the Ceremony but despite not arriving until two hours before the 7pm start, they managed to grace the event with their presence to the delight of the audience inside the arena.

It is a story like this that really highlights the power of the Pacific Games as an entity. Their triumph over adversity was met with a rapturous response as their name was read out over the tannoy, and rightly so.

For it was an incredible achievement just to be there but to make it on time and full of vigour, despite being asked to wear their parade attire on the plane over from Nadi, which is located on the western side of Fiji's main island of Viti Levu, personifies the Pacific Games spirit perfectly.

Every nation received a warm reception, with Vanuatu even unveiling a banner that read “Thank you Papua New Guinea” in local language Tok Pisin, but special ovations went to Australia and New Zealand, who are competing at the Games for the first time.

Their appearance at these Games will only enhance the coverage worldwide as they are the two major sporting powerhouses in the region and while some may have foreseen an adverse reaction to their participation, the crowd were full of admiration, clearly showing that they are happy that Australia and New Zealand are part of the event.

It is fair to say it has been a long time coming.

As was forecast, the Stadium noise levels then escalated several notches when “Team PNG” entered the fray amid a cacophony of delirium and excitement.

The lights grew brighter, the music louder and it was safe to say at that point, the party was truly underway.

A buzz reverberated around the recently-renovated venue, sending shivers down the spine as their athletes made their long-awaited arrival on the Ceremony stage, clearly lapping up the reception they were being given.

The second half of the event whisked by, incorporating yet more varying cultures within the Pacific nation as well as traditional music.

But this shouldn't be construed as a negative - after all they say time flies when you are having fun.

Once the majority of the ceremonial content had dissipated, it was the turn of the dignitaries to take the stage, including Papua New Guinea Prime Minister Peter O’Neill and Justin Tkatchenko, the nation’s Sports Minister.

The arrival of the dignitaries was greeted with a brass band rendition in front of the main grandstand

But it was Prince Andrew’s appearance at the podium that brought a hushed silence over the Stadium that hadn’t been seen for the previous 120-odd minutes as he announced he was here to deliver a message from The Queen.

His absence from the christening of Princess Charlotte long forgotten, the Duke of York grasped the attention of the audience as he read from the sheet of paper in front of him.

“I wish all the teams the best of luck in competition during these Games,” part of The Queen’s message read.

While luck may play a factor in terms of the sport that will take place here over the next 14 days, no fortune was needed for Port Moresby 2015 to deliver a spectacular Ceremony that will live long in the memory.

One that was fit for a Prince, a King or even a Queen.

Liam Morgan has recently graduated from Southampton Solent University with an honours degree in sports journalism. He has worked for a number of organisations including Reuters, The Non-League Paper and the Worthing Herald

BAL KAMA

THREE schools in the Gumine District have made history by becoming the first rural primary schools in Simbu Province, and possibly Papua New Guinea, to teach computer classes this year.

The Kama Scholars Foundation (KSF) donated eight computers to Gumine Primary School, five to Mul Primary School and five to Nondri Primary School, which is about 6-8 hours walk from Gumine Station.

With no road access, Nondri is commonly referred to as Bomai [South] because of its remoteness and lack of government services.

KSF assured the people that having modern technology at their school would be a first step towards their dream of modernisation.

Hundreds of community members turned up at last week’s ceremony to welcome KSF deputy chairman Robert Kama and his helpers who had travelled the eight hours journey on foot to deliver the computers and library books.

KSF also donated sporting equipment for the young people.

Bal Kama is working on his PhD at the College of Law at the Australian National University

JIMMY DREKORE

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Little Prince
If anything I can do
I will do

You don’t have to say
Let heaven know
I will know

They left you
Do not fear
I’m here

The world may turn its back
You may not have a friend
I’ll take you to the end

Let me take your hand
Carry the load
And show you the road

Rest on my wings
You - a morning dew
My heart will not forsake you

From the foggy mountains
To the scary gullies
One day you will rise

Take your place in the world
Make Simbu proud
Make me proud

I will be happy a man
And die a happy man

MARLENE DEE GRAY POTOURA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

AUNT a hypocrite. Court case sucks. Well....

The head ache started at 7 am today. Right on time.

Lately, everything has been really screwed. Now, the head throbbing was doing weird things to me.

Like a hen to the slaughter, I dressed and got into my car, with a litre bottle of Scotch whisky under the driver’s seat.

Aunt came out of the rat infested shack we called our home and, like a loudhailer, asked where I was going.

Out, I said.

Let me pray for you, she said, and walked over to my Mitsubishi.

Darn, with the rolled tobacco in your mouth, I thought.

Her right hand held the tobacco and a loud prayer of forgiveness was said on my behalf, followed by a song that ended the prayer.

This hypocrite smokes endless rolls of tobacco and then at night gets down on her knees and rebukes the neighbours and curses her relatives. At 11:30, goodnight tobacco is smoked and then the shack is filled with her thunderous snoring and farting.

At 6:00 am, a good morning tobacco is lit and then down on her hypocrite knees again, with the singing that ends it all.

Where you off to hon, she puffed.

I bumped a cop, remember, I’m going to court.

Go to court and tell them, the cop pushed his right hand into your blouse. Stand your ground and lock eyes with the magistrate.

I looked at her. Was she mad?

Hypocrite was smiling.

Cops are humans, don’t wet your pants, winked the hypocrite prayer warrior and tobacco puffer.

Sweating, I waited outside the court house, eyeing everyone in twos. I was the only one alone. I pulled out a cigarette and walked to the car park. Lit and puffed. Inhaled and exhaled. Once more, two times more. Then threw the butt into the flower bed and walked over as names were read.

Dahlina Bray, traffic offence to Court Room 2.

Swell. Loud hail it and broadcast if you want. And traffic offence, my foot! I was fuming.

I walked to Court Room 2.

Message beeped on cell phone. Hypocrite says, be strong, don’t drop.

I stand when my name is call. Magistrate looks me up and down.

Yeah, what!

Your bail receipt? I hand it to cop then cop hands it to magistrate.

Deulina, he says. Wrong name. Clears his throat and says again, Dahlina, are you guilty of bumping a cop?

I was reversing and he was relaxing at the back of my car, as if he was at his home on his lounge reading the Post-Courier.

Was that your vehicle you were driving? Yes.

Can I see your licence? Licence to cop, then to magistrate. Back to me.

You have caused an accident and a cop nearly lost his life. (Yeah, his screwed up life, standing behind vehicles and pulling wax out of his ears.)

You are hereby sentenced by this court to pay a K500 fine (What the xxxx!) Give Sergeant Nickolas Torur cash at the police station and let them receipt you there. I give you until today and tomorrow.

End.

Crooks and daylight robbery. Dammmn!

The cop I bumped was standing outside with crew cut, clean shaven face, blue polo pullover, stockman boots and nice round butt in denim jeans. He looked like a model from Stella magazine.

K500 was for someone who was limping, with swollen groin and dislocated hips. What a laugh, what a joke. Hahahahahaha.

I opened the car and pushed my hand under the seat, pulled out the one litre fiend, pour some into an empty container and mixed it with Coke. I skulled it down in three gulps. Throbbing in head disappeared. Gulped, glug, glug, glug. Gluuuuuugggged!

Darn. Life sucks.

Cell phone beep. Hypocrite says, well, I hope they were fair to you. If they weren’t, it’s because you didn’t say what I told you too.

Cruel world, no one is fair. Much love aunty.

Stuff aunty, stuff court case. 

ABNER YALU

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

There is a lady, by the name of Gas ,
who is a character and a wonderful narrator,
A happy mind, and sparkling face,
Her energy shines, feverishly contagious.
High morality and self-righteous.
Like a Peacock, draped in secondhand pillowcase.

Yet sparkles had a farce, and terribly heavy too.
Remnants of hot breakfast, with a trace of cold dinner,
Her habit to release gas, right at the moment’s pass,
Was her strongest trait, noticeable by all around her,
Even office plants complained, gravitating away from her.

I advised myself in my mind, during a close encounter, 
that if I was to let one loose me self, It would be as far from all who stood, 
but not this pressure driven steam engine, she is determined, to ruin our lives.

Of course every human being, releases gas in respiration,
In tandem with laws of nature, to fuel plant photosynthesis.
But what I fail to understand, is why the plants are dying,
All around her vicinity, despite daily watering, and fresh fertilizer.

I now prophesy with gloomy certainty,
that her fumigation, oblivious to the suffering,
and the widespread suffocation, will eventually lead am sure,
to voluntary extinction, of our office kind ,
due to an inexplicable, deadly nose infection.

REILLY KANAMON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

I received a text message from a relative in the village which read, “The last days is here, the prime minister Peter O’Neil has authorised the triple six by signing a memorandum of understanding with Vodaphone to have everyone under the control”.

As a journalist I can easily spot misinformation and speculation. My relative’s opinion was based on rumour. The (“number of the beast”, 666 (from Revelation 13:16-18), is an age-old human superstition suggesting that the Rapture is imminent.

The truth was that the Papua New Guinea government was on the verge of introducing electronic identification as part of its National Identity Project – and that’s what the MOU was about.

However the village had no access to the media and the information had spread through word of mouth and, in the way of these things, had been exaggerated for religious reasons.

It intrigues me that much of what has been promised by the information age – including access to vital knowledge, better information and greater democratic participation - has yet to reach ordinary Papua New Guineans.

Opinion leaders in remote PNG villages are a powerful influence - the average villager relies hugely on them for information and decision making.

So is this the development paradigm our nation of diverse cultures is adopting, where the well informed become powerful, successful and prosperous, thus widening the gap between the rich and the least fortunate.

In his paper on the role of public opinion in democratic societies, Deverraux Ferguson looks at how public opinion shapes and maintains the essence of democracy and how public debate and discussion is a vehicle for informed and intelligent decision making.

The remote populations of Papua New Guinea need to be informed and able to make good decisions, it’s a democratic right, but what they lack is information and the credible media through which the information can be passed to allow for dialogue.

Because rural people lack the resources to make their voices heard in PNG’s shifting social, economic and cultural landscape, these remote and disadvantaged communities face the twin dangers of being left out of decision-making that shapes the future of their country and receiving modern media services.

It has been that “in a country like PNG … where the construction of nation is still in progress and far from completion, the lack of participation and exposure to Western values could lead to fragmentation and cultural diversity loss” (Pamba, 2000).

With the mainstream media having failed as agencies of empowerment, what are the alternatives for reaching the ordinary people of Papua New Guinea?

Informing and educating the people is a core obligation in the development of democracy in PNG. As a journalism graduate, I believe the practices of PNG’s mainstream media leave a lot to be desired. Deteriorating media law and ethics is a major stumbling block.

I felt uneasy to practice helicopter journalism - where a journalists are not on site to report on what is happening but instead rely on other sources. Usually the source is an opinion leader, a local politician or village chief and the perspective may be far from objective.

Election in Papua New Guinea bring to the fore the results of information gaps and media negligence in educating the people.  Potential candidates easily mislead voters who lack the basis to analyse campaigns and policies.

The information gap between policy makers, implementers and the general public is in need of urgent attention.

WENDY DOGURA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

THEY say that when a woman marries she leaves her parents to be joined with her husband in sickness and in health till death do them part. They become one in mind and in soul, hearts joined.

So damn true these words, I pondered tearfully as I sat on the cold cement floor. Grey brick walls, a small cell reeking of urine, stale air drifting in through a tiny grilled space near the roof, the only way out a heavy iron door bolted in place.

My head ached terribly, my tears flowed uncontrollably, the pain in my heart pressed against my lungs, I felt I would choke.

“Why did I do it, why did my anger get the better of me, why, why?”

I thought of my beloved son, Shawn, chubby face, tear stained cheeks, struggling with outstretched arms to get to me when I was handcuffed by police outside our house that morning. He was only four. And baby Sheena wriggling in Gertrude’s grasp. Gertrude holding her tightly stopping Shawn from running towards me.

As the police vehicle left, my heart was wrenched in grief. “Please, my babies need me, please,” I begged. The policemen looked through the windows as if something outside had caught their attention.

Buildings and vehicles rolled by. My thoughts were with my children. How would they endure life without me, particularly now their Dad was gone.

Jim was once my whole life. Half Oro, half German. Handsome. Brilliant. At age 27 already a partner with Schauss and Partners law firm he joined after graduating from university. We’d had a lavish wedding at the Botanical Gardens in Port Moresby and moved into a big house on Touaguba Hill.

Jim made sure I had everything I wanted. He was kind and respectful, took me on holidays overseas, showered me with gifts, he was my world.

Our life was made complete when Shawn was born on 15 December 2006, an adorable fair-skinned boy with a chubby face and thick curly hair. He took after Jim.

Baby Sheena was born two years later, a pretty little thing. They were adorable and Jim spent most of his free time with them and showered them with all sorts of dolls and toys. We donated four bags of them to the Cheshire Homes last Christmas. As for me, I couldn’t ask for more.

But two months ago, Jim’s behaviour changed. He was moody and worked late into the night and even on weekends. He was defensive when I enquired why the job demanded more of his time. He was often tired and seemed less interested playing with the kids, at times speaking harshly to them.

This Saturday, Shawn was up early, had breakfast and rushed into our bedroom with a balloon which he playfully pushed into Jim’s face. Jim woke up and roughly shoved Shawn aside. He went to the bathroom and I heard the shower.

Then his mobile phone rang in his jacket and I reached into the pocket and took it. There were 15 missed calls from the same number and an unread message from an hour before.

’Honey, the pains are much worse, I am taken to St Marys. I called you several times but you must be asleep. Come to St Marys. Love. Stella.’

Was that message intended for my husband?

I scrolled to the Outbox. Jim’s message was sent at 3:00am to Stella or whoever the bitch was.

‘How are you, darling. How’s the pain? Let me know if you are going to hospital. You know I can’t come at this time, it might be suspicious. Can’t wait to hold our baby in my arms. Be with you forever. Love, Jim.’

I took a deep breath and tears welled up in my eyes. Shawn tugged at my blouse, holding his balloon up to me. I perched myself on the arm of the sofa and blew it up.

Jim came out of the shower and quickly dressed, muttered that he was off to the office and trotted down the stairs.

“You liar, damn sickening liar,” I thought. “Liar, liar,” I screamed as my anger got the better of me. I hurled the ashtray across the room, smashed the photo frame into the glass cabinet and punched the wall.

Then I let out a shrill peal of laughter like a mad woman, folded my fists and walked to the kitchen. ‘No, Jim, I am not your fool, you will surely pay.’ I pulled from the drawer a long silver handled knife.

I drove straight to St Mary’s Clinic. The staff knew me well. Nurse Joyce, a polite young lady, was at the counter. I nodded to her and headed straight down the corridor towards Maternity. I pushed open the glass door and looked around.

Jim was standing at the Labour Ward entrance, pacing up and down, his back to me. An elderly Asian lady dozed on the sofa near the window.

I slowly approached Jim, right hand in my coat pocket.  “So you lied to me, right,” I said in a shaky voice as Jim turned around, surprised. In one swift action, the knife was in his chest, twisting and turning as I drove deeper.

He lifted his hands and let out a gurgling sound his eyes wide with panic as blood spewed everywhere. He slumped down his hands on the knife handle lodged in his chest.

I turned around to walk out. The Asian woman was now wide awake, eyes as wide as saucers, but she made no noise. I calmly walked out and drove home and headed shakily to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

A police siren was coming closer. I took off my coat, changed my blood-stained tee-shirt and headed downstairs.Gertrude was answering the door as I approached. “Are you Mrs Dawson.” I was told they were arresting me for the death of my husband, Jim Dawson. I felt empty, weak, alone.

Revenge had come at a price I could not bear.

DESMOND AIGILO

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Pangs of vanity infest man again
The other half of man’s face is revealed duly.

Murder by blind ambitions;
death shrouded by a false noble cause.

Desire of false liberation; liberty is yours!
The man strives for betterment but life is no different;

Struggles, work and death are eminent.
For what then do the men in the West struggle for?

What then is the price of a flag; a title; independence?
An early death?

KEITH JACKSON

SO the time for entries came to a close in this year’s Crocodile Prize national literary contest and, after a flood of contributions arrived in June, there were 827 pieces of creative work on the table – 200 more than the previous record in 2014.

These came from 132 writers & illustrators, another record, representing 19 of the 22 provinces in Papua New Guinea.

You can download the profile of every author and illustrator here: download profiles (if you're not mentioned, it's because we haven't received your entry form).

Once again Simbu excelled itself with one in five of all entries coming from the highlands province, home to the only writers association in PNG and host of this year’s awards event in September.

Where the writers came from

The competition judges are already hard at work and the best entries are being prepared for publication in the Crocodile Prize Anthology 2014, which – with the support of the PNG Association of Australia – will this year again run to about 450 pages.

The contest also saw a record 10 full length books entered in the Ok Tedi Mining Book of the Year Award. Each of these works was published in the last 12 months and is a further tangible indication of the great resurgence in PNG literature we are witnessing.

This year the SP Brewery Award for Illustration is being offered for the first time as is a special prize for the best entrant under the age of 21, thanks to Roxanne Martens and Ian Kemish.

Entries by category

So let’s take a look at the article and other contributions that most engaged our readers in June….

MOST COMMENTED IN PNG ATTITUDE IN JUNE

22 comments - Journalists expose how corrupt cash gets to Australia from PNG (Nick McKenzie, Richard Baker, John Garnaut).  Nothing like a good crime story to get people interested and this story by three of Australia’s top investigative journalists was a beauty. Two leading PNG lawyers were caught on video explaining how political leaders steal money from their own people and park it in bank accounts in Australia.

17 comments - The year I failed university & Mama got me married.... (Arnold Mundua). A wonderful short story drawn from real life about the collision between tradition and modernity in PNG. Arnold is struggling at university where he’s been involved in a riot and his studies are not going well and battling with his mother who wants him to get married to the girl of her choice.

14 comments - More about Grace Nugi, Miss PNG, scientist & team cheerleader (Keith Jackson). Miss Papua New Guinea, Grace by name and nature, is from Simbu is completing an honours degree in science from the University of Papua New Guinea but remains very engaged in community activities back home. “Be bold and go with confidence and raise the Simbu flag even higher,” she says.

11 comments - The curious world of the old kiap – a legacy squandered? (Phil Fitzpatrick). They were the frontline elite of Australia’s nation-building effort in Papua New Guinea peremptorily dismissed at independence and, until recently, pretty much ignored after that. “This community of former kiaps seems to have three major preoccupations,” wrote Phil. “The first is the ongoing pursuit of recognition for their service in Papua New Guinea. The second is the celebration of a particular brand of ocker larrikinism and drinking prowess. And the third is a relentless undertone of criticism of Papua New Guinea since independence - although these old kiaps are pretty touchy about criticism of themselves.”

11 comments - The Anzacs in the Pacific – time for another look at the myths (Patricia O'Brien). In an article for the Australian Institute of International Affairs, Patricia O’Brien wrote of how the World War I Australian military occupation of New Guinea had “left deep scars and damaged national reputation”. She saw this as an unravelling of the “‘myth’ of the strong, brave and irreverent Aussie soldier”, triggering a minor history wars in PNG Attitude.

10 comments - A journey to PNG Attitude: 4 flights, 2 weeks & a mouse click (Raymond Komis Girana).  Raymond told of his own discovery of PNG Attitude – “one click on my mouse led me to a wonderful place that bears the name of my country and its way of life … with the intention of making friendships and building relationships through literature at national and international level.” We’re delighted to have Raymond contributing to our project.

10 comments - I do find the time to write .... and I write books (Baka Barakove Bina). Some advice for budding authors from Baka, who has found the time to write five books so far. “The process was time consuming and on occasion I wondered how I found time to do it. Writing a book is not something you do over a long weekend. Some of my works took 10 years to complete.”

9 comments - Coming soon: A book of stories from Enga Province (Daniel Kumbon). And here is a collection of stories that took 30 years to achieve publication. Daniel told how, in the mid-1980s, Engan students at the University of Papua New Guinea wrote stories which he hoped would be published in a book. It took the Phil Fitzpatrick’s Pukpuk Publishing imprint to achieve this three decades later.

9 comments - Old but new: Vibrancy & relevance in collection of Enga stories (Phil Fitzpatrick). “It is the sad case that Papua New Guinea has few commercially established general publishers,” wrote Phil. “This has been true since before independence in 1975. The reasons for this are manifold, but the relatively small market for Papua New Guinean literature, both within the country and internationally is of significance. An international lack of interest and ignorance of Papua New Guinea affairs and a rapidly declining literacy rate within the country are also factors.”

9 comments - Life begins at 40 & so does mid-life crisis (Michael Dom). “For some reason when I look at home from afar and read the day’s news on the computer screen it seems to me that Papua New Guinea is heading into a mid-life crisis. Port Moresby's deprived children crawl over the freeway and under the fly-over like cockroaches. They feed off the refuse from Down Town, Touaguba and Paga Hill, feasting in the shadow of street lights…..” Prose poem to make you stop and think….

MOST LIKED IN PNG ATTITUDE IN JUNE

140 likes - More about Grace Nugi, Miss PNG, scientist & team cheerleader (Keith Jackson)

80 likes - Indonesia hopes to keep West Papua out of Melanesia group (Keith Jackson)

49 likes - Foreign affairs comes clean: We screwed up over Buka post (Keith Jackson)

42 likes - Breaking the ‘bystanding’ attitude in Papua New Guinea (Rashmii Amoah)

42 likes - Journalists expose how corrupt cash gets to Australia from PNG (Nick McKenzie, Richard Baker, John Garnaut)

34 likes - Melanesian crossroads: let's do things the Melanesian Way (Yamin Kogoya)

31 likes - PNG’s boom in Muslim converts linked to traditional customs (Rowan Callick)

23 likes - Petition for PNG authored books in schools gathers pace (Michael Dom)

22 likes - Kathleen Furi Juffa's home for wayward bastards & orphans (Gary Juffa)

21 likes - ‘Makai Ike’: the Simbu prayertainment that’s killing family life (Kela Kapkora Sil Bolkin)

GITA-KRISTIE KORIMBO

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

My Papua New Guinea, land of beauty,
is meek, unique and impeccably suits me.
From the grassy wetlands where birds roam free,
to the humid jungles packed with trees.
From the priceless chills of the mountainous highlands
to the thermal coasts with sun-bleached sands.

My Papua New Guinea, I can boast,
has countless fauna and flora popularly known to most.
Like the Bird of Paradise with feathers so grand
and exotic orchids growing wildly throughout the land.
Rich in its cultures from days of old
and filled to the brim with treasures like gold.

My Papua New Guinea, my only home,
wherever the world I do roam,
despite the pleasures I do seize,
and despite lifestyles that seem to please,
there is only one place I’d rather be,
and that’s right here in PNG!

CARLOS HILDALGO

HE was a small, frail old man, who certainly looked insignificant in a photograph.

But he was a giant of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Papua New Guinea, a dynamic and growing church.

Endengnuka Soma Salango, a pleasant and humble man, was an individual worth honouring for his efforts in spreading Lutheranism to this scattered, far-flung area of West New Britain.

I met him in 2010 after being posted to the area as a young didiman to manage Sarakolok oil palm settlement. Soma would often bring betel nut to my small outstation office and we'd chew and chat the afternoon away.

I found this old-timer fascinating. Not only because, as I learned, he was related to me but because of his long history of evangelising far from home which shaped the church to what is today.

Soma Salango was born in 1932 in Fio, Finschhafen born. After completing his tokples school at Mawaneng, he ventured far and wide, ending up in 1955 at Rainao Copra Plantation on East New Britain.

It was here that, after a hetman course, he got inspired to set up and manage pocket congregations of immigrants from mainland New Guinea who, like himself, found themselves in the New Guinea Islands as plantation workers.

Soma was taught and mentored by a Mexican clergyman, the Rev Max Dima.

In 1969, Soma came to settle in West New Britain on a block of land which he had applied for. Here the huge galip, malas and figus trees fell to his axe. In that same year, he started the first pocket Lutheran congregation in a makeshift tent beside his house.

There were 38 Morobeans, five Simbus and two from Madang. These 45 men and women were Lutheran pioneers as well as settlers and farmers.

In 1972, Soma conducted the first confirmation class with their children, the first generation born in this new place. Later he began to evangelise in the Whiteman ranges where he found a nomadic tribe that is today located in Kumali and Mingai villages. Ninety percent of them are now converted Lutherans.

The top photo is of Soma. It was taken by me on a Sunday afternoon outside Sarakolok Lutheran Parish which he constructed in the mid-1980s.

The funeral photo was taken by me last month – Friday 19 June, my birthday and Soma’s burial day - at the very place he had once posed for my camera.

I surely miss him. Rest in peace, great pioneer.

BRIEFING | Global Witness

CORRUPTION is a daily topic of conversation in Papua New Guinea.

Often described as “an island of gold floating on a sea of oil” the country is a treasure trove of natural resources, but citizens don’t see the profits invested in much-needed schools, hospitals and roads.

Instead as much as 7% of the country’s GDP is reportedly siphoned out of the country illegally.

Global Witness went undercover in Papua New Guinea (PNG), capturing what we saw on hidden camera. Our meeting with two partners of a prominent law firm proved enlightening.

Both men – one Australian, one from PNG – responded to our questions about how to pay a seven-digit bribe to a PNG minister.  They described different ways of funneling money out of the country illegally, avoiding detection.

We handed this footage to prime time Australian news show Dateline and major newspapers including Melbourne’s The Age and the Sydney Morning Herald.

"Australians should harbour no illusions that corruption is someone else's problem", said Rick Jacobsen, a campaigner at Global Witness. "We believe that Australia is at the epicentre of regional corruption and money laundering that is harming ordinary Australians and the citizens of impoverished neighbours like Papua New Guinea alike."

In Australia alone, Federal Police estimate that each year around $200 million of corrupt funding is laundered from Papua New Guinea.

The ability to move corrupt funds overseas is a large part of what makes grand corruption possible - it drains poor countries of funds, props up dictatorships and fuels conflicts.

Global Witness is exposing the professions that can make that possible – the lawyers, bankers, accountants and estate agents who assist in moving money across borders and secret accounts, through anonymous companies and into assets.

These are corruption’s lesser-known abettors – some professionals at the heart of our financial system, who take advantage of weak laws and enforcement who help dirty money end up in upmarket neighbourhoods and designer goods.

Governments have a duty to act, starting with full investigations and appropriate sanctions, and leading to regulatory reforms that ensure that the professionals that turn the cogs of our financial centres are kept in line.

Global Witness is campaigning internationally for lawyers, real estate agents and other professionals in high risk sectors and jurisdictions to be bound to ‘know your customer’ requirements, meaning they actively look out for and report suspicious activity.

These professions should also be subject to laws and regulations that ensure they aren’t complicit in the movement of corrupt money, and are held to account if they do.

These revelations have elicited strong responses in Papua New Guinea, from the lawyers caught on camera, the PNG Law Society and the Office of the Prime Minister.

REILLY KANAMON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Big men have fallen
Politicians behind bars
Businessmen homeless
Eating away my people,
Exploiting our resources
Molesting young girls,
Raping mothers at home
Killing like cancer cells
Spreading like airborne TB
Corruption is rife in PNG

Corruption is a virus
Spread through its host
Wantok system, greed and ignorance
These are some common hosts
We enjoy their company
Celebrate fruits of corruption for a season
When the morrow comes we are beggars
Begging on foreigners, on our own land
We cry for justice, we call for governance
Who do we blame now?

ROB PARER

SO there goes a lot of Sepik history. What a character was Tadashi Nishisaki, who died recently at his home in Japan. He was an extravert of the Sepik in the 1960s.

Tadashi had initially arrived in Aitape and told us in Pidgin that he was on his way to where his father – who had been killed in World War II - was buried near Malol village, 15 kilometres to the west.

At the time we did not believe him. We did not know that his father’s wartime friend had buried him near a huge ficus tree and had given Tadashi instructions about how to find the remains.

A few weeks later Tadashi walked into the Aitape Club with his father’s dog tag and his bones wrapped in leaves.

When he returned to Japan his exploits made him a celebrity and he was on the front pages of the newspapers.

Tadashi spoke Pidgin but no English. He was behind a lot of the Japanese shrines around the Sepik and his PNG-Japanese Friendship Society helped Sir Michael Somare with a vehicle and a loudspeaker when he first stood for election to the Legislative Assembly.

The Society also spent a great deal of money establishing the beautiful Peace Park opposite the Windjammer Hotel in Wewak.

He led many groups of Japanese widows and their children to East and West Sepik to see where their husbands and fathers had died.

He also organised many Buddhists monks to visit, including the head of the Zen Buddhists of Japan, Yamada Mumon.

For 35 years Tadashi kept coming back to make sure the memorials were in good shape.

Tadashi owned a boutique factory manufacturing popular hand-made soap and remained a celebrity in Japan.

With thanks to Harry and Betty Roach

PAUL OATES

Mipla igat traipla hevi,
Ol bus igat planti wari,
Lain gavaman inostap,
Na oli askim mipla antap,
Bilong wanem yupla noinap,
Long mekem ol samting kamap?
Orait, bai mipla mekim nupla lo,
I olsem bengbeng istap bipo,
No ken wari na singaut moa,
Watpo yupla paitim doa,
Lo opis bilo mi?

We’re certainly very anxious
The bush has so many problems
The government has no presence
And the people are asking us leaders
Whether we are up to it
Why we don’t make things happen
Sure we can make new laws
But a new law is just an illusion
Stop worrying and demanding more
Why are you knocking on the door
Of my office?

FIDELIS SUKINA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

THERE was a slight tap on my shoulder and I turned around. “Brother, I’m going. I’ll see you,” he said.

I could tell he needed something more than a mere, “OK, ketz, brother, will see you tomorrow.”

To see someone drop so low was heart-breaking. Julius was a great man and colleague. When I left Port Moresby and went to live in Madang for a year I had no idea what would happen.

But when I returned the fun loving person I knew had changed. He was still friendly but looked sloppy and careless.

In our line of work as journalists, we have to look presentable. Julius looked like he couldn’t care less. I could not tell him straight because I respected him too much. I just went along with the ordeal.

“Bro, here’s 20 kina, go and buy something good,” I said, handing over a note.

“Thanks bro, thank you,” he said shaking my hand, and took off with his dirty trousers and battered shoes.

“Julius is a good man, but too much drinking, too much drugs,” Thomas, another friend, told me. “And now he’s a slave to the beer and weed. Hopefully he will turn his life around.”

It was hard to talk to him about his appearance and flaws, as men we would just change the topic and talk about something else.

I had to do something, but what? I was tired of seeing him suffer, turning to drugs and alcohol every chance he had.

Julius had his own ways to make things even. He never forgot the good you did for him. In his little way he would give you something in return.

“Brother for you,” he said, giving me a biscuit to have with my drink. It was only a biscuit but it came from the heart.

As the days went by we noticed our brother had left us. He was not seen around the office.

No word, no announcement by newspaper management, just a string of days when he wasn’t there.

A few weeks later we found out that our brother who could write masterpieces had moved back to his home province of West New Britain.

We all hope he will find it in him to change and become once again the Julius we knew.

DANIEL KUMBON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

MANY people hold the  view that, if it wasn’t for the judiciary and non-government agencies like the churches, Papua New Guinea would have long become a failed state due to systemic corruption at all levels of government.

Recently, Education Minister Nick Kuman shocked the nation by revealing that K50 million under the government’s free school fee policy was stolen by fraudsters because education officers were not doing their jobs of accounting for money received by schools.

Kuman said the education officials didn’t ensure that enrolment figures complied with the actual student populations in schools. In one province, which he did not name, the 2015 enrolment was inflated by 18,000 students – in order to get more funds.

National Planning Minister Charles Abel recently said that PNG has wasted K150 billion since independence, much of it through fraudulent schemes.

There was the National Provident Fund (now Nasfund) fraud for which Jimmy Maladina was been finally found guilty after 17 years for misappropriating K2.65 million when he was chairman of the fund in 1999.

There have been many other cases, and many more presumably still undiscovered. They happen because the government appoints departmental heads and CEOs of statutory agencies without much scrutiny. A number of these top bureaucrats either ignore corruption or are heavily involved in criminal activities themselves.

This would come to a grinding halt if a new system of appointing top bureaucrats was adopted for PNG. A nominee for a top post would be screened and confirmed through a parliamentary confirmation committee comprising government and opposition.

If a nominee was involved in illegal activities like sexual abuse in the workplace, victims would be empowered to stand up and testify.

This system was used by the United States in the confirmation of US Supreme Court nominee Judge Clarence Thomas in 1991. The proceedings were telecast live and extensively covered by the media.

Thomas emphatically denied charges of sexual harassment and repeatedly invoked racial themes in his own defence and, in a move to gain sympathy among blacks, he accused the all-white Senate of conducting a ‘high-tech lynching.’

When I saw this, I couldn’t believe that a woman would stand up in this way. Being from PNG, where women tend to be suppressed and subservient to menfolk and where the wantok system rules supreme, I found the confirmation hearings amazing.

In the end Judge Clarence Thomas was confirmed by a 52–48 vote, the narrowest margin for approval in more than a century.

Maybe, PNG could adopt such a system so members from both government and opposition are appointed to a parliamentary confirmation committee which can drill candidates for top positions - judges, ombudsman, police commissioner, agency CEOs, departmental heads and others to check their character and merits and screen them thoroughly.

It’s a system that would weed out corrupt people who have been recycled in government systems over and over again in the last forty years.