My 11 year old cousin is quite inquisitive, and to that end she quizzes me about issues that I would otherwise glance over if ever it was in the newspapers.
A poem about PNG women challenging engrained assumptions.
A family goes to a popular community market in Cairns. We explore a particular event through their eyes and see their relationships.
(True Story bro)
Today(29/May), in other news, I really screwed up. I use the word screwed here, but I really mean fuck.
I’m am really proud of my aunty and her liklik bisnis so I don’t want her to waste time doing unproductive things.
Something I noticed leaves me feeling uneasy.
In my more contemplative years, I learned of the phrase “empty drums made a lot of noise”. Deaf, I was at the time, a bit too young to understand but I still hear it now.
In the end,
we all come back
of our missing pieces
– It taunts us every day.
Our bedroom mirrors
Take peace from us.
That there is another world
-Inside of us
We are still looking.
Never quite seen.
Across foreign lands.
– We are hidden,
In distant lands,
Between what you want to see
And what we let you see.
We see what we remember,
But we forget too.
So I carry a bilas bilum
And she wears a meri blouse.
Seeking approval from the mirror
Before we head to the day:
Maski, yu wait meri pinis.
Maski, yu wait man pinis.
Our bedroom mirrors
Are missing pieces.
Reflecting what’s missing
Inside of us.
It takes the peace from us,
Leaving us anxious
– Hans Lee
Where I wrote this….
Light of the world
She, the light of the world.
He watched her rise and set.
They met at church as most do.
And then again on bus rides to school.
Then at markets. Then in shops.
On Facebook. Through text. Over phone calls.
Rising together till she fell.
But she refused his advances one day.
So he stained her cloak with fear one night.
Her sun never rose there after.
As she lived by the fear of light.
She burned her cloak, to hide the stains
When his family paid the five hundred kina.
Forgive and forget, her Pastor prayed
God punishes because we are all sinners.
And he sniffed at some white stuff.
Thought he was the right stuff.
And clenched at his heart one day.
– Myocardial Infarction
The coroners transcription.
Was all that was needed to say.
That’s when they came for her.
In the thick of her fear,
Extinguishing her light from the world.
The lawyers, the police.
The accountants, the priests.
They chanted our ancestors words.
You, the girl who witched his heart.
The doctor said “you broke his heart”.
You deserve to die, the witches way,
The girl who lived, by fear of light.
I wrote this poem with a lot of hate and disgust at a part of Papua New Guinean society that I can’t reconcile with who we are as a modern nation. For all we strive to be – holding on to our culture and customs and celebrating it – we are also still held back by the fear and deeply entrenched superstition that we harbour in the undertow of our conversations. I don’t mind being controversial here because someone has to be.
Something is seriously munted as shit if superstition is being treated as grounds for a criminal offence. Continue reading “#44 Poem: Sorcery Related Violence in PNG”
There was a village in a time before the moon entered the skies where trial fighting, magic and the daily life coexisted.