JOHN KAUPA KAMASUA
An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories
THE fool! How was he going to dish out the best punishment to match his neighbour’s insolence and stubbornness?
Anger, uncontrollable rage and a sense of vengeance worked into one to make Kola feel as though he was a potent weapon.
He felt as if he was ready to silence the insolent pup for good. He would show him who was stronger.
How had his neighbour dared to take a defensive stance when his pig had destroyed the new garden? The fool had dared to open his foul smelling mouth to insult the memories of his ancestors, and for that he was going to pay. Kola felt invincible.
Maybe he could drive a dagger into his neighbor’s heart and silence him. No, a machete would do a better job.
These thoughts were evil, but funny too, for Kola would never hurt even a fly.
Or maybe he should confront him. Then the pig could feel the fierce bite of his tongue. The lashing from his mouth would be nothing like what his neighbour had encountered before. The words would be as lethal as a blade.
They would drive him to jump into the Emau river after torrential rain. There the unforgiving currents of the Araul, Mu, Galape and Kukulpla would snatch him and drag him to his death. Yes, the currents were sure to take his neighbour and crush him against the rocks and boulders.
The earth would tear at his flesh and his cleaned skeleton would wash ashore on the gravel somewhere between Dikadegen and the Wahgi big river. Strangers would find his bones and shall quickly bury him. Then the world would move on and his memory lost. That would be a good end.
But Kola was no monster. He checked himself. His feelings were as ancient as the landscape; emotions passed down from his ancestors who had seen the first stars burst from the sky.
The contradictory thoughts filled his mind, occupying his attention and causing him to miss a firm step on the slippery slope and plunge off the track. For a moment he was flying through the air, but was caught by a clutch of leaves and branches and suspended between the canopy and certain death. It was the thread of a miracle.
With some precious moments to preserve dear life before the weight betrayed him, Kola grabbed some vines and inched his way to safety. He sighed with relief and closed his eyes. But, even after this near tragedy, his thoughts could not rest and again ran havoc.
Was the fall a sign that bad thoughts, especially against others, were destructive?
There were no answers, only silence in his mind.
Kola picked himself up and walked carefully to his garden. He had to be wary. He was among the last of his family line.
But the angry thoughts threatened to flood back. They were almost bursting out of his head; screaming to take hold of his being.
Kola had to find the strength to suppress them; make them go away, never to return. So he decided to sing.
He began with the lullabies his mother had sung to him years ago, when the earth seemed young and love was as real as the wind and rain. This felt strange, for he was an old man with the world around him a mean and dangerous place.
Then he sang the courtship songs. But he had just had a bad cough and could hardly hear himself sing. Hot air came from his mouth as muffled croaks, his tone as bad as his old radio with flat batteries.
He decided to draw something positive out of his situation by focusing his attention on the bananas, pumpkins and pawpaw growing in his garden. After a while, a different pattern of thought crept into his more subdued mind.
He would cut the highly priced kame yaure in his garden and present it to his neighbour. That would be a sign he had released himself from harbouring evil thoughts against him. And, from his heart, he would tell his neighbour how he felt.
Kola chose the best banana bunch and carried it back to his house, struggling under its weight.
He went up the hill and looked across to his neighbour’s house to see if he had arrived home from the chores of the day. He looked for the smoke that drifts from such low huts.
Finally, in the distance, he spotted his neighbour on the ridge, a dry log over his shoulder. Kola struggled down to place the bananas near the hut door and walked back up the hill.
When Kola saw his neighbour approach the house, he called out to him: “Dinem yo, I have placed one of my babies from the garden in front of your house. Look after it!”
Surely being of the same years, his neighbour would understand.
Then he cleared his throat and uttered the most beautiful words. “I no longer hold ill feelings against you for the argument we had yesterday.”
His neighbour acknowledged him with similar voice.
That night Kola sat by the fire and recounted his story to his wife. On the other side of the hill, the neighbour and his family were having a meal of bananas and pork.
Everyone was happy. The night sky was clear an d the moon was full. The hamlet was peaceful once more.
The peace and a peculiar warmth resisted even the night cold. Kola felt a load had been lifted. Silently, within, he felt free.
_________
Kame yaure – is one of the highly fancied species of bananas that is normally used in important ceremonies in the highlands of Papua New Guinea. Kame is banana in the Dika dialect of Simbu.
Dinem– An indirect expression of greeting someone senior in age, when calling his name would be considered offensive. It is a sign of respect and is mutually acceptable among those who use it. Dimam is used to address a female in similar fashion.