NAWAVO, More than a friend

Im going far from home and from my people

To foreign land, far away across the sea
Though I may see, the lights of mighty cities,
But the fires, of home will call to me.

Perhaps I’ll wonder into some strange cities

Its buildings made of steel and stone and glass,
They reach up high enough to tough the heaven,
But I’ll still love my home of grass.

1. GOING BEYOND THE KNOWN

When my mother told me that we were going to visit grandpa, I immediately knew it was
going to be days of walk to our first village. Little did I know that this journey was going to be
special because on this trip, this man I had come to call Navawo in my language, meaning
friend the very first time I met him was taking us. This was unusual and rare; that made it a
bit exciting for me. On this journey, I would be walking with my Nawawo, sometimes riding
on his shoulders, that was something special for a small lonely boy who only knew mama
from her arms to crawling, walking and the days of trying out first little arrows on lizards to
catching frogs in the rushing icy flowing streams that gushed out from the belly of Mt
Michael. Little did I know too that this journey was going to be a walk of a life time, leading
me to unknown lands beyong and to turn me into someone totally different from the rest of
my tribe. This is not so much my story, but about the dream of the one I called Nawavo.

The excitement in my small mind ran around quickly to my best friend, one I grew up playing
with. They called him Uvevira.There was nothing I couldnt do without him. We saw sunrises
and sunsets together and in our own world we were the best, we were the masters of what
we did together and for us, other kids of our age didnt matter. There was something
different about us maybe because of the circumstances we were both born into, by design
or mistake. First, we both were born in the absence of our fathers. Second,our mothers
huts were built on both sides of the Clan chief, who happened to be the grand father of my
friend brother. And my father is said to be related in a maternal way to this chief whom I
took to be my guardian authority. He was simply the fatherly figure in our world and he was
everything to us. He treated us special. I loved it whenever he would call us alone into his
house. Our mothers and other women, including his wives were never allowed inside. He
always had piece of meat to give us or pass us roasted corn, his favourite past time and
sugar cane which he enjoys chewing most evening.

I learnt years later how unique this chief granny really was. Everything about him was
different, his movements, the way he was always in traditional costumes, what he ate, his
gardens which he was always paying particular attention because he collected his own meals
and cooks to his own taste, he speaks little in public but he was more popular than the
village politicians. He was never seen in public with his wife and she couldnt come into his
house but he sure had kids, so he probably had secret hiding places to love his wife. He was
not an ordinary man but to him, Uvevira and I were his eye balls. He showed extra attention
and patience in dealing with us. It seemed we were sons of no fathers but in our little world
he provided the balance for us and our mothers. We didnt need more than that; what we
had was adequate, and so often we were happy.

That happiness on our faces may have been the comfort our mums needed to carry on with
their daily chores. But their pains, we couldnt tell. They must have burried them deep inside,
perhaps pretending always they were fine. My mind wonders what the two young lonely
and vulnerable mothers discussed between rests during their gardening or when they were
weaving bilums, something that comes naturally to Hegetoru women. Most times it must
have been about when they may be able to see their husbands again. The sight of seeeing
other women with their children going and coming from gardens, often in single file with the
father in front must have been emotionally upsetting for both. Frustrating questions must
have run through their minds. How long was this lonely life going to continue, would their
men return safely, would they be normal or too different as they were out experiencing a
world of change out there, will they still love them or turn to other younger women, and
what about children, would they be able to bear more? But the simple fact that their men
were enlisted and send away to work in distant land, something I learnt years later, made
them stand out among the women folk. Their men were special, they will return with new
language and ways, they will bring them gifts, the tribe will welcome them like heros, the
community will come to listen to them, they will be the tribe’s pride and the icons of change.
Mum and her dear friend were ordinary village women but their husband’s status would also
elevate theirs. It might mean, their life could change forever and perhaps they both never
imagined where the bearing and impact this experience would lead them.

Just the thought of this makes me smile because these two women would have been lonely
in the true sense of it but they were probably living everyday in the excitment and eagerness
of expecting their husbands return. You could say they had come to terms with the pain of
self struggle and loneliness and waited confidently, determined this was only temporary and
their husbands were definitely returning in a colorful way. That was going to be their
moment. Beside their husbands, they were going to shine out with their two little boys. The
other women folk and community would witness that, acknowledge it and know their wait
was worth it.

The absence of our fathers was of little significance for our Bubu chief. Even though Chief
Waino was said to have been born out of our tribe’s early generation of ancestors, he
demonstrated his vision for a civilised modern life in one thing he did. There was a short
episode in mine and my best friend’s life we could never forget and hold dear to us as
significant and special. Chief Waino himself would stand infront of his chiefly hut and call out
to our mothers on either side demanding that it was time and the boys should be ready for
wash and school. It would be like seven oclock in the morning under the heavy mist and at
the freezing foot of famous Mt Michael, I could just vividly remember how he would force-
follow us, without concern for our skinny shivering little bodies to the nearest icy water falls
and dump us in as to make us take full bath. We would spring back as fast as our little
shivering body could afford to the stones crying and he would stand over us and push us
back and made sure water had fully showered our bodies. I can not remember us having
towels so he must have kept a cloth (laplap) for us to use as towel. Our teeth would be
cluttering from the shivering and cold as he forced us to eat our Kaukau whilst walking
hurriedly. He would follow behind our often hesitant walk to Kotupi, the Kiap post and
mission area where a building was used as a place for school. We didnt last long, maybe
because we had no clue about what they were doing inside and perhaps we were just too
small and those attending were grown up boys. This was a very remote tribal community
surrounded by jungles and mountains and we were just kids, igonrant of the happenings
beyond the bluey and cloudy mountain caps. What was this thing they called school? At that
tender age in the village, our lessons were simply from garden with mums, following dads to
the bush for those that had their dads around and helping feed our pigs beside our mums.

FACIAL SCAR
The boar was called Avinunu and I almost lost my eye. I must have been a little more than
four years old. I had followed mum to feed him and Avinunu was a giant of a pig at my age.
But infact as stories had it, the rearing of this boar gave mum prominence because it grew to
a huge size compared to the common sizes. It was afternoon and mum and I had been
camping at Umaniahivi, a bit further up in the direction of Mt Micheal top with my maternal
Uncle Lotono. I called him Papako, translated to Papa. His children called him that so i
followed and he was my maternal father as well. I loved him because he treated me very
special. I was his sister’s son and he treated me with care. He would do anythig for me. I am
told that whenever me and mum were around at a place where pig was killing was going on,
he would force his way in and grab a piece of pok good enough for me to eat. He would
consider me above his own children, my cousin sister Otana and brother that had died. It
was from Papako’s mumu(ground oven) cooking that mum was taking the left overs to feed
avinunu.

When I once asked my mother about how i got the big scar beside my nose just few inches
below my right eye, she recollected to me that Avinunu was hungrily eating when I tried to
playfully feed him too like what all small kids do but got too close. He snapped and beat me
in my face. It was a very bad bite and the bleeding was profound with blood gushing out
from my tiny face but I am told my uncle treated the wound with bush leaves. Sometime
later when Avinunu was killed for an occasion, it was very emotional for mum. He was like
her child. For her then, it was avinunu and me before Mowai came along, so she gave us
special attention.

MY ARM SCAR
When I was growing up in the village, I felt closer to my maternal relatives than my father’s
line, not because they didnt accept me or liked me, but my maternal family expressed their
love openly and showed more responsibility and care over me. I believed that as a
consequence of the periodic and prolonged absences of my father, mum found more
attention and protection from her family. That brought me into contact with them more
often than the times we had with my paternal relatives. I particularly recieved a lot of
attention from my mum’s parents. I can still very faintly remember the adoration and love. It
seemed I spent a good deal of my childhood with them as mum found no problem leaving
me with them to do her daily or community chores, and at times went away for days with
 clan members to attend to invitations for tribal events and ceremonies by neighbouring
tribes which was often common.

On one occassion, we had been living with my grand parents at Kotupi and on this particular
morning, I was finding a warm spot around the fire place and I went too close that I lost
balance and fell on my left side into the fire. I fell at a point when the flames had died down
and only glowing with beaming red charcoals and hot ashes in the fire place on the ground.
As I am told, my whole left arm went right into the hot ashes and charcoals but luckily
grandpa was close enough to pull me out from the fire place. Sadly, my little left arm was not
lucky enough and recieved heavy burns all around from the elbow to the wrist. Although I
can not recall the pains and agony of this childhood accident, the visiblility of scar around
the back area of my left arm close to the elbow shows how terrible the burns must have
been. I am not told how the burns were treated and healed, but I am greatful and often feel
lucky for still having a perfect arm with no disability of any sort. I had come closer to losing
an arm, leg or face had it not been for my grandfather who reacted at lightning speed. The
scar however, is a constant reminder of the closeness to my mum’s family.

Apart from my mum, the one that would have greatly felt and shared the pain and agony of
the burns was my Antie Oullie-inawo, the last daughter born to my grand father after my
mum, and the second born of his marriage to grandmother after her first husband had died.
Untie Oullie acted as my nanny most often as she was young and free and was close to mum
in many situations. I was on her back everywhere, as I am told, giving her unbearing
headaches, made it difficult for her with my unstoppable cries, the painful pinching and
scratching into her back to give me attention or get me whatever I wanted. Despite the
difficult child I was, she often told me years later that she adored me much like her own and
attended to me with every care. She cried with me when I cried and sympathised with me
when other kids of my age had attention from their fathers. I believed she spent a great deal
of her time minding me when I had the fire burns and gave me attention equal to that of my
mother. She now has her own children and is a grand mother of many but she still regards
me as her son as I was the first baby she minded in her girlish arms.

My Mountain, my home

I was born in a small village hut at the foot of Mt Michael in Lufa. Hegetoru was my birth
place, my home, from where the world recieved me and to which I will return, and it was from here
that I was taken out on a long journey to a distant place. Dragging me behind with her baby son,
mum and this man I called Nawawo headed for the long journey. Perhaps, in my young mind, the
excitment of the trip was the only big thing and whatever else about the walk was simply
phenomenal. Nawawo was a man on a mission and had it all worked out, and I had no clue what so
ever about their plans. My mum may have had some knowledge on the nature of the trip and this
may be so because she had been expecting something that would keep her close to the man she had
loved and married. Leaving alone may have been too much for her and she had had enough of it
and this was her opportunity. It was obvious from the way her relatives showed their emotions with
tears and embracing her with good wishes for the trip. The goodbyes came as we started the main
track and tears flowed freely from close relatives, particularly my untie Oullie and my uncle Papako,
but these would not have meant anything to me. The relatives appeared to have heard or figured it
out that Nawawo was taking us to a distant place so naturally they were expressing their sorrow on
our departure but I was too small to understand the extend of their emotions.

I had been born at a time and in a place that was only just beginning to experience new and civilised
aproach to life. Arriving into the world in September 1966 meant this was a period of rampant and
forceful change in Papua New Guinea. After the second world war ended, twenty years earlier in
1945, Australia had been given responsibility to administer British Papua and German New Guinea
under one administration. Under the colonial rule, Australia had the mandate to bring
enlightenment to the primitive and uncivilised people of the land. The drive for change was active
and inevitable under the Australian administrators and managers called Patrol officers or Kiaps. It
was in this period that saw the construction of road excess to Lufa District headquarters and to
locations near my village which were built with hands. All the tribes were mobilised in their clans and
each given sections to work on, and they did an extremely wonderful job with great enthusiasm and
hope for change. It was also a period in which travelling away to unknown places was rare. The idea
of town, white man’s goods such as clothing, store food, and money was strangely taken in a cult
manner. They put certain expectations on clan members who were travelling out but always with
much concern for their safety and life. Always at times of departure, feasts were given in honor of
departing family members, a combined expression of love with concern which is believed that in an
unseen way, they call on protection from the spirits of ancestors and the nature.

After all the farewells, we were ready to leave. There is a particular look out point called Ivi-
itai, from here you could see oncoming people or visitors in the distance and it is from here where
outgoing people were normally farewelled on their trips. From this point , we would be passing
through couple of gorges, take a small climb and then walk along a ridge that hosts our neighboring
and a rather small tribe called Beha. The last look out point from here is called Asaetai. From here
you could clearly see all the neighbouring tribal areas. Giving your back to Hegetoru 2 which, from
this point is to the Eastern end, Agotu is in the South looking passed Kora area and the Mane villages
are located some degrees west from the south, you could say south south west direction. Behind the
Agotu ranges is Herowana, the last villages of Eastern Highlands Province before the Gulf Province
hintherlands, hosting the Elk/Entelope oil and gas development projects being developed by Inter Oil
Limited in recent times. To the south west in the direction of the fast flowing and rushing rivers out
of Mount Michael are Ubaigu, fututai school and Kora 2. Further to the back are the people called
Kuasa, host of present Crater Gold Mine and than Maimafu. In the west direction immediately in
front, Mengino stands visibly close by and at the back is Gouno. And behind Gouno, you could see
clould cover over mountain ranges in the distance that marks out the Simbu Province. Least did I
know that, that was where I we were heading and beyond that unknown place would be my second
home for the most part of my life. Immediately in the Northwest direction is the Fiyamotave people,
a traditional enemy tribe that had not so long ago converted to become a true ally of the Hegetorus.

It was at this lookout point that the final farewells would have came from the younger relatives that
followed us on. From here we were on our own and at this stage it was just five percent of the entire
journey. It was Nawavo’s role as the man in charge to be in control of time and to ensure we
covered enough distance in good time to reach Hegetoru 1, his first targeted destination.

My Firsts

After mum brought me safely into the world, I had known no other places, people or heard
unfamiliar sounds and seen things allien and unnatural. I was just a little five year old unaware of the
world outside of my little ivitai, alavoi, naoragwatai or waya’asapi and mowai. These were my
favorite spots I was used to going with my mum or my uncles. The Asaitai look out point was I
believe my first introduction to the vast unknown outside of my little Hegetoru. I guess I was just
too small for what was beyond me to experience any real affection. For me, it may have been
curiousity and excitment to see new things that bothered my mind more. Hence, I was simply
unaware of the surprises and shocks that immediately lay ahead.

The two kilometer decent into Wara Wamu from the Asaitai lookout would have been tough and
agonising. I believed my ting legs and feet did not sustain the steep slope at almost 75 degrees most
of the way down and where difficult, I must have rode in my nawawo’s strong and muscular arms. I
am sure Mowai was safe in Mama’s bilum on her back. At the foot, I could recall the sight and feeling
of coming face to face with the first modern road and bridge in my life. When Nawawo wanted to
take me over the bridge, I ran around mum and wrapped around her legs tightly and cried out in
fright. After I finally regathered my courage, I realise i still had to cross one of the twin bridges which
were about fifteen meters apart. As I started to follow from behind to cross, fright returned and I
struggle as Nawawo held me tight in my arm and helped me to walk over. I must have been shivering
and shaking as we started the ascend into Mengino on our long journey to reach Hengetoru 1.
Somehow relieve grew over me as I found joy in walking and runnnng along on the road and not on
a bush track anymore. Nawawo would have been thinking of the long road as he hurried me on and
followed me from behind. I am sure we must have rested occasionally not necessarily at common
resting points because of my sore little feet. I was walking bare foot on rough and rocky, and
sometimes muddy road sections. I had no idea about shoes. Whenever i grew tired, Nawawo would
have carried me on his shoulder to made sure we covered good distance before dask. That meant
having to pass Mengino in the morning hours and reaching Gouno about midday.

Gouno was where I saw a lot of strange things including houses that amazed my eyes. It was the
shinny tops of modern houses, which I learnt later as Kapa or roofing irons that took my attention
most but I must have been too tired to ask and Nawowo would have taken the short cut bush track
to keep us moving to gain time. He couldnt be bothered by my interest in what I was seeing in front
of me knowing there were many of such sights ahead along the way. And I guess he couldnt be
bothered by a tiny boy’s curiosity to distract him from his goal of reaching our destination.

Gouno was the first established modern mission station by the American Faith Mission. It was first
settled about the end of second world war. It had a church, school and medical clinic. The
missionaries brought many modern goods and had introduced them to the Gouno tribal community
through their stores. People near and far including the Hegetoru community came to witness the
fascination of new things and how the white people behaved and did things. There had also been a
mission station establisehed at a place called Agotu, in the south direction of my village which would
take two hours to reach. I have heard years later that Nawawo was the man incharge of sawing
timbers for the Lutheran Mission station and its nearby bridges. However, Gouno had more
attraction because people had started planting coffee trees and were making money which they
could use to purchase food items such as rice and tinned fish or clothes. By this time, the Gouno
people had become more accustomed to these changes than the others and their children had
started attending school. By the time of my first passing here in 1971, some local kids had completed
school and were sent away to bigger schools elsewhere including the few that went to Australia.

Between our destination and this location, the journey was almost half way and Navawo’s goal from
here would have been to pass the Beha villages before dask having climbed the Yanorawi steep. So,
he would have ushered us on, keeping our eyes focused on going down to cross wara Yali and
making the ascend up to Beha top. Years later when going back to my village for school holidays, I
often get confused between Wara Yali and Wara Wamu because both have similar features that
consist of two rivers almost similar distance apart, twin bridges and the rivers meeting at similar
angles. Whether carried or walked, the ascend from the twin bridges must have been a tough one
for me. It works out to be about five kilometers to the top. The time at this point would have been
about 3.00pm, considering the distance travelled from the village. The immediate goal would have
been to reach the seletai top before sun fully sets.

I learnt years later why this point remains the major hurdle for walking travellers and even to
motorists destined for Lufa station or Goroka. It was its steepness, an angle at approximately 65
degrees that always presented a challenge. Walking with children was always a concern for parents
as kids could easily get tired and demand to rest with no regard for rain or darkness. But significantly
in hindsight, reaching the top brought overwhelming relief for the fact that the climb was the last
and the rest of the route would all be in vertical motion. We may have reached the top in good time
for Nawawo’s comfort as he had wanted us to reach Hegetoru 1 in the dinner hours. Usually for
travellers , this was always a popular point to take breath and have somthing to eat, and surely we
would have had something to eat like roasted kaukau, to supply us energy to our destination.

First sight of Electric light

It must have been two hours since we left the Seletai top walking in vertical direction before
reaching red top and making a descend into Lufa station. I vividly remember a strange experience as
we popped out of the bush track meant for a short cut to avoid a sharp curve of the road. For the
very first time, I came face to face with bright electric lights generated from a diesel generator at the
red top faith mission station. I was totally amazed and attracted but at this point I may have been
too tired and sleepy as my next experience suggests, the way I could recollect was waking up on
Navawo’s shoulders and gripping tightly around his neck as a strange sound grew louder
approaching us with bright lights showing the way ahead of it. That meant I had slept all the way to
this point and had missed the station lights that come on only in the night at the Lufa District
headquarters.

The lights were almost similar to the ones I had seen earlier accept these ones were approaching us.
These lights were drawing near in our direction and were been carried by a moving thing. I
remember crying out in fright as the thing came to a halt when Nawawo waved at it. My grip on him
was so firm but he forced me down roughly as if dropping me to go over to this thing. It was dark
and I didnt dare looking at it accept wrapped my arms around my mother’s legs locking her
movement. A little while later as we kept going our direction, this moving machine returned and
stopped. It may have turned back from the station. The next thing I knew was been roughly picked
up by Navawo to place me on this thing but I was so frightened, I simply could not let go of my grip
on him and hung on tigthly around his neck so he just had to climb with me that way. Mum got on
with Mowai still very comfortable in his Bilum bed sleeping away not having any slightest idea about
the trouble I was going through. I tucked my face into Nawawo’s laps not wanting to see, hear or
feel anything. The movement motion of this thing gave me frightful shocks as it rolled on. It was not
long before it came to a halt and we all climb out at Istoi with me still clung to Navawo. He uttered
something in the dark, perhaps saying thankyou to the people inside and the thing which I came to
know a little later as ‘kar’ moved on with its lights and sounds fading in to the dark. That was my very
first encounter with a moving machine called motor vehicle.

Nights are usually very cold at Istoi, my original tribal home because like Alawoi, it is situated at the
foot of Mt Michael, on the opposite side in the Northern direction. My five year old tiny body would
have been shivering as I was ushered once again from behind to move in the direction of their choice
and I believed we felt our way in the darkness to the main village. In the distance from my left, I
could see more of the similar lights I had seen at the mission station and may have wondered what
they were and how they could be so bright in the night. Nevertheless, my mind was too small to
comprehend the many firsts I had encountered along the way and at this point I must have been just
too tired to worry about these things as sleep over took the best of what was left in me from this
very long journey.
I must have had a good feeling waking up fresh in the morning at Istoi but the pains in my small legs
and feet would have made me sleep a bit more and rising hesitantly to get closer to the fire place. I
had fallen asleep without eating so my Kaukau was the first food for breakfast I would have asked
from my mum. It was not the morning sunlight or other children’s voices that suddenly ejected me
out of the house and drew my complete attention. It was the sound of an alien thing, something
extra ordinarily big and strange passing by the village. The road ran right next to the village but my
dwarf size compared to the scary sound of the engine of what I eventually came to acquint myself
with as dump trucks made the experience more vivid in my memory. I was seeing these huge funny
moving things for the first time and would have stood far and away from other children as the
experience of the ride in the night on the back of the first motor vehicle had been traumatic enough
and still fresh.

But like any child, excitement in new things overwhelmed me and eventually made me forgot how
remote a village boy I was and got lost with the other children who were related to me in every way
chasing the trucks that came in numbers to carry out the road works. In those days, these
machineries were either owned by the Lufa Local level Government Council or the Public Works
Division(PWD), now called National Works Department. What I was seeing at that point there and
then was the utilizing of machines for the first time to reconstruct and widen the road that was hand
built by people under the control of the Kiaps. I learnt years later too that the construction
equipment belong to the Lufa Local Level Government Council which on record happened to be one
of the few rich LLGs in the country during the years leading up to Independence.

At this stop at Istoi, Nawavo left us and disappeared briefly for a while. I was small and ignorant and
unaware of the bigger environment outside and what his plans and intentions were that I was only
too happy to be around my mother and baby sibling Mowai. I probably just liked Nawavo for
carrying me on his shoulders and admired him for his huge structure and big muscles but that was it,
he was just some person who had helped my mother to travel to this new place. I probably cared
less what happenend or where he went next.

Although only a full day’s walk out of Hegetoru 2 to Istoi at Hegetoru 1, our original village, it would
have been a very satisfying and relieving trip for my mother. How could I tell of what that experience
meant for her. She has walked with her two boys in the comfort and security of her lover, her man,
the one she was engaged to and eventually formalized through a traditional marriage ceremony
years back. But the reunion of this man I called Nawawo, with his family after his return and indeed
this walk was special and she alone knew just how much that meant for her and her two boys. The
excitment and relieve I imagine must have been overhwelming as she would have figured out that
this was special, and she was never ever going to be alone again from this point on. She had sensed
she was starting a journey that would take her away from her home and relatives for a long time and
perhaps for good. To walk head high beside her man was the reward for her sacrifice and
faithfulness to a man who gave her children and left for government work somewhere leaving all
responsibilities to her. But her judgement was right. Her wait was not in vain because after all, her
man had returned and knew exactly what he was supposed to do.

Nawavo had seen, heard, learnt and experienced something new, a new way of life that could not
be achieved in the village. What he had been through on his travels had influenced much of his
thinking and approach and he was determined to remain different and pursue it until he fully
discovers it. But he was not going this path alone. He was taking his young family and he had his
mind fixed on that which my mother knew to be true, and why not. She had waited long for
something new and different and her hero’s return which symbolized change and something that
made him a standout figure in the Hegetoru tribe was now taking her away with best hopes and
renewed self esteem.

Whether it was the beginning or the end, this phase of our trip had been achieved and for me this
must have been it. This was our place and we were meant to come here and live with our relatives.
What other information my mother had about further trips was none of my business and didnt
occured to me, infact I was just too small to comprehend that aspect or even think that further. At
that tender age, I guess the effect of a new environment would have taken my complete attention.
Here the children were related to me, just like in Hegetoru 2, both along my father’s line and
mother’s line. My immediate hurdle was becoming part of them and adapting to their way of doing
things. That though, didnt take long. By blood I was part of them and fitting in just occured so
naturally as it was a situation of home away from home.

The difference between my Alawoi and Istoi and perhaps something that amazed me much at that
point in time was the big road that passed right through Istoi and the machines and trucks that
moved about on it. I think this would have intrigued me so much that for the first couple of weeks I
could never have missed been at the road side doing something with the other kids. When we were
too hot and covered with dirt from playing in the mud or dust from the road, we would easily race
each other to Wara Lipa, the most loved creek that begins from a ridge just above Istoi and runs
right in the middle of the tribal landscape and zigzags down southwest meeting up with River Boavi
and other big rivers that eventually end up becoming tributaries to the Tua river and eventually
adding volume to the big Purari river which snakes its way in to the gulf seas. We would end up in
couple of our favorite spots along the creek where pools had been naturally created by the fast
flows or falls of the river. We would splash and wash in it until we grew tired and hungry a which
point it would have been around midday and been too tired and hungry, everyone of us would begin
our next routine of searching for our parents at home or in the gardens. Some garden areas that
were too far for me would have been Laovani, (nnnn). I remembered that my mother had numerous
gardening areas where her relatives had given her plots, and difficulty of not knowing exactly where
she might be often leads me to her dad’s house.

My grand father had returned to his traditional home land from Hegetoru 2 earlier before Nawavo
came to pick us. His name was irai and he is said to be a Darepamo man. He only lived with the
Hegetorus because he got married to their daughter. That was how my mother became related to
the Darepamoa tribe. This tribal group lived next to the Hegetorus and shared many land areas and
carried out tribal ceremonies such as marriages and pig killings or even stood together against other
invading tribes. That practice of friendship had existed and continued for many generations. Looking
at the amount of the land areas that my grand dad had proved he was the son of a leader. He indeed
was a son of a warrior chief as I am told by my uncles His land portions are scattered along the ridge
that covers Fati and ends somewhere in Kumovi. It was somewhere here that I could run to for
safety whenever i didnt know where to find my mother and feeling hungry. The comfort of care and
love that naturally flows from grand parents were always a unique experience. That maybe because
in the absence of someone I could call dad, I had the luxury of living among grandparents from both
sides. Years later when I was living with my both parents and punished heavily for something small, I
would yell to them to send me back to my parents, refering to my grand parents thinking that they
were my real parents. That was the extend of influence they had on me.

The closest thing to a modern life was seeing the lights coming from the Hairo Faith Mission and Lufa
station from Istoi or Yaivi. I believe I didnt have much to appreciate about these places but the only
knowledge I could recall was that goods like tinned fish and rice came from there. When I knew
mum was going there I would always expect to get a meal of rice. I never got close to see the white
missionaries that were passing by the road side almost everyday but seeing them from far was
sensational enough for me. At first, I was frightful and would often watch them from far but as time
went by and saw them often, I may have wondered why they were so much like us and yet so white
and different. I couldnt be bothered to go close whenever they stopped at Istoi to chat with adults
on the road. I guess I just kept my distance because I was probably damn scared. Well, who would
have guessed what was going on in my mind in the period I left my first village and set foot in the
second one. My small mind was getting filled everyday with new experiences and knowledge about
the happenings around me that were constant and rapid unlike the simple quite life at Alawoi. I
didnt comprehend yet that this was just the beginning of more dramatic and fascinatinating episorts
that lay not too far ahead.

Nawawo had left the three of us, mum, me and my baby sibling here at Istoi and it must have been a
while since we left Alawoi. The excitment in the new environment and all the new encounters I had
been having kept my small mind so occupied that I would have almost forgotten my simple setting at
Alawoi. I was only small and may have been scared and nervous of all that I was seeing every day but
like all children, I had quickly adapted and got used to things. At times I may have tried to
comprehend things happening around me but my small brain probably got congested. However, any
appreciation of these were basically limited to what my eyes could see and imagine and remained
within that scope. Anything else would have been unthinkable. The constant exposer to new
experiences was simply the order of things that point in time and I might have been a lucky kid to be
seeing the dawn of modern change in the land. There was more to follow soon but notions like
Goroka town or big stores would have been too much for me to imagine.

And yet my friend Navawo, the man with the mission knew something serious was going on out
there. There were some dramatic things happening and he was totally determined to make us part
of it. Whether he understood it all or not, I was not in a position to know at that point. When he
reappeared again at Istoi, it was time to begin the second part of my journey. This time, we were
going far, very far but didnt know where. On this lag however, Nawawo wanted only me to go. I
could not understand why and would have hesitated and not cooperated because mum and mowai
were not coming. It could not be so easy departing from mum as she was the only one I knew
enough and didnt know much about this man I called Navawo.

Taken West beyong my known Chapter 2

Just like the departing experience at Hegetoru 2, all my relatives gathered at the road side to send us
off on one of the very few trucks operating in the area that period. My mum’s mother and father,
grand father Irai and grand mother Maromoli, were also there to bid me farewell. That was to be my
final encounter with grand Irai. Nawawo had selected an uncle named Saikon to be my guardian so
only the three of us were going on this trip. I could not have understood and be bothered by where
we were going as I must have been scared and worried about going without my mother. I
remembered it been a struggle as I was biting off those who tried to put me on the truck. I think this
was because my very first experience on such a moving machine shocked me once and this was
going to be the second time. But more than this, I didnt want to depart from my mother and was
crying and screaming my head off. I remembered too that this departing experience was different
from the first one. That, I was excited and was always trying to walk ahead of the team but this time
I hated to move an inch. I was grabbed firmly again by Navawo and as the ignition started and the
truck moved on, I forced my head up to see my mum for the last time at Isito. She was crying and
weiling as she followed the truck trying not to let it disappear from her sight. The truck rolled on
faster this time down a small slope to Wara Lipa, and as it gained speed to turn the corner to climb
the steep and a sharp bend, I saw the final sight of mum with small mowai in her arms looking on.
My thought was not of this moving machine any more, it was about been taken away from my
mother and I cried bitterly as we passed Yaivi, my last known frontier. As the truck rocked and rolled
throught the newly constructed road, turning the bends and corners going pass Menilo and taking
the climb to reach Hata point, I had lost track. It was unknown territory and the smell of fume from
the benzine was irritating enough to force me into sleep and occasionally waking to throw up. When
I was shaken to open my eyes and see where we were, I was in a completely new world. It was
Goroka. But I was probably still half asleep and too weak from vomitting that the excitment in the
new environment and its sights didnt register.

Really there is not much of a recollection in my mind of famous Goroka. But am told that we had
stopped at Goroka market which at that time was the drop off and pick up point for Passenger
vehicles, and off course a place to get something to eat or take along on the long and dusty trips
further west ward or east ward to Lae. My sleepy state of mind and weakness from vomitting
probably didnt allow me to see clearly or eat anything. Hearing from the conversations among the
adults, I knew this was not the final destination and that was confirmed further in my mind when
Navawo told me to eat because we still had a fair distance to travel. I remembered that they bought
food, some bottled drinks, cooked food and bakery staff, most of which were totally knew to me and
didnt have the appetite. I would have gone for the garden food, especially sugar cane which was my
favorite back home. I had refused to take in solids as I hated to throw up again. Whatever occured
there on my first sighting of Goroka was so short and fast as the next point in my memory was
waking up in the dark to see some lights in the distance. Nawawo sook me hard enough to make me
sit up so I could see the glimpse of the lights in the distance. I heard him say ‘ isa anaune, uriawai’
( we are here now, its Kundiawa). I didnt know and understand any other language then. He spoke to
me in my mother tongue and that was the only language of communication between him and me.
The old highway was dusty, very bumpy and dangerously vinding that it may have taken another
hour to reach our destination.

I have figured out when thinking about that historic trip, that I was woken up by Nawawo
somewhere at a place called Mauro, then we went passed Dumun point to Mu Lutheran Mission
station, passed Kamtai down to a river called Mu Nule, drove into Koge Catholic Mission station and
keeping to the right, the cruiser drove the Dinga sloping landscape downwards till it reached the
famous Wara Simbu bridge. This route then was a section of the old highway and had long since
been re-routed, in a cut-paste manner north wards shortening the distance between Dumun and
Wara Simbu cutting right through the Ku tribal landscape. At that time, it would have taken us 25
minutes to reach the town from the bridge. We eventually rode in to Kundiawa town, went passed
shops that were illuminated by bright lights, and a little later ended somehwere at a location that
was high enough to look back at the bright lights of the town. I had landed in a new place that would
be my home, and remembered shivering from the cold and was nervous a bit, but eventually got off
from my uncle’s grip to climbed down from the vehicle and stretched out wide with a yawn of
satisfaction that all the travelling had come to an end. It turned out that this location where I would
be spending the first seven years of my childhood was on the south side of what is now the
Premier’s Hill, which was then the ADC’s (Assistant District Commissioner) home. This was my little
paradise part of Kundiawa town that I became used to and called home teff, though distinctively
very unlike my tribal homes at Alawoi and Istoi.

We had arrived a little too late for his friends to be at the drop off point to greet us so I just followed
Navawo from behind with my guidian uncle. As a typical village boy and one very ignorant of town
life, I guess I wasnt thinking anything fancy or modern. It probably never really occured in my mind
about what kind of place I would be living in. It just so happened that I was ushered into a house that
was no different from what I was used to back home, a house on the ground but too dark that night
for me to point out any major differences. The only one difference which was very visible to me were
the rooms on either side of the living area. It was too dark and was quite late too and I guess sleep
would have got the better of me and because we arrived into Kundiawa in the dark hours, I really
didnt know where I was or what to expect of the place. I went off quickly to bed missing for the first
time the closeness of my mother and little mowai and switched off into the sleep-world wondering
when I would see both of them again.

When I finally woke from sleep in the morning, my attention would have been attracted by the
sound of people talking and giggling around the fire place. Still laying and eyes closed, I had to figure
out what they were talking about. I recognised among them Navawo’s voice and knew he was
telling them about the journey but couldnt understand most of what the other voices were saying.
The voices were of a different dialect which I was hearing for the first time. I didnt hear my mum’s
voice or a bit of noise from my baby brother. That made the room strange and erie as I realised that I
had travelled to a completely new place. As this realisation took hold of me, a vied sense of
confusion and isolation from the ones I had been so attached to would have stirred me to scream
out for my mum but I was scared to attract attention. I forgot just how long I would have forced
myself pretending to sleep as I felt nervous about meeting the new people but more so, I was
reluctant to face the reality of the new world outside the house. Little did it occur to me in my tiny
mind that moment then that what awaited me outside was a world that was ready to accept me as
its own without conditions and turn me into a confident and brave man capable of facing the
uncommon. Navawo had now landed me in kundiawa where he wanted me to be and rising up from
sleep this first morning marked the beginning of my life as a Simbu man.

The year was 1972 and I would have been about six years old then. I was my mother’s boy and
couldnt do anything without knowing she was somewhere near. Waking up this first morning in
Kundiawa without her presence nor of my young sibling would have been a shocking experience as I
realized she was no longer around and remembered leaving them a long way away only yesterday.
Was I dreaming? Outside the house was a completely new environment, not like Alawoi or Istoi
where the people and environment were familiar. As I hesitantly stepped out to face the first sun
light in Kundiawa, I realised I was not in a dream. I felt the cold of the morning air penetrating
through my tiny body as I looked for a higher spot for the sunlight.

My mind quickly scanned the surrounding to register my new place. The reason for the freezing cold
was that the house was built at a foot of a rock hill towards the west where the lime rocks were
clearly exposed. Over the top and towards the north and East directions, the sunlight was brighter
and stronger as the sun’s exposer was direct from the rising sun in the east. The house that I had just
walked out from some minutes ago was a four corner house of Kunai grass and blind walls of pitpit,
not too different from the round houses I was used too. Infront of the house, some beautiful flowers
and tangets were planted and a bit towards the edges of the house were matured banana trees of
different variety. But the most obvious and plentyful were the trees of sweet banana, one that turns
bright yellow from green when they are fully matured and ripe. I came to love eating those as the
weeks and months followed into years. A familiar sight of gardens followed after the line of banana
trees that acted as a mark and shade for the house. Beyond the gardens were just bushes of grass
and parches of small trees, very different from the jungle bushes I was used to. Some fifty meters
from the back of the house, I could see through the bananas that there was another house of kunai
grass. Further, about another 50 meters from the next house, I could see another two similar
houses, bush material houses of modern style.

But a bit further west up on a hill, there stood a small modern house that I came to know later as a
house boy in the yard of the exposed back of a big high covenant modern house. As time went by I
became familiar with the occupant Mr Dickson, an Australian old fellow that lived there. The famous
Kundiawa Dickson’s field was named after him and living in the area for a long time got me even
closer into this yard because the House boy happened to be from Henganofi in Eastern Highlands.
He was often called Cookie because he cooked for Mr Dickson. Mr Cookie’s son Jeoffry became my
class mate and soon a best mate couple of years later when I started attending primary school.

To the south from where I was standing and lower from the house, I could see some shiny roofs
which represented group of houses but so many tall trees obscured their clear view. I soon became
very familiar with this place which become known to me as Malaria. I guessed it lost its real name to
this one which I never came to find out as it was the headquarter of all Malaria spray program in the
Province. This location also housed the Nursing school and many beautiful residence for doctors and
health personnel of the Kundiawa General Hospital and health division.

I have been for the first time starring at and registering the area that would become my home for
many years. I was standing at a point on the southern side of what is now called the Premier’s Hill
(formerly the ADC’s Hill). This prestigeous part of Kundiawa town became my teff for the first seven
years of my life in Kundiawa.

Who was Navawo? Chapter3

I couldnt say I was scared or doubtful and confused about him but simply felt safe. At this point, I
still didnt know much about who Navawo really was. Our friendship this far had been very cordial
and the extent of it could be summed up in the name Navawo, meaning friend. I had not learnt
enough about him yet but perhaps that consideration was mature thinking. As a child, I was merely
following him and pretty ignorant of other concerns, and issues such as that of relationship was
probably not critical in my mind. I had just taken it for granted that I was safe with him and liked him
enough too. However, his approach to me was obvious to the mature observers which I missed
understanding in the early days. Although I felt his affection and sometimes could figure it out from
how he introduces me to his friends, I maintained my own perception of him and believed it
genuinely for a very long time. He could be my father but I was fond of calling him Navawo. So this
friend: what was his real name?

As time passed and when I could be able to read from the surname I got, his name was written
Lafanama. This was his given tribal name. And his surname was Laviya. The name he enrolled me for
pre-school in 1973 was Pati Lafanama. It amuses me sometimes to recall the story of how I got the
name Pati. It was told that I was born during a Victory celebration party for the first Council Election
in the Hegetoru 2 area in September 1966. My relatives found me a new born after returning from
that Party so they named me Pati. It is funny though that they found some amuzement in giving me
that name because it was not usual in the tribe for newborns to be named after an event. It was very
common for new borns to be named after persons or places, mountains, trees, animals, plants and
rivers. My brother born after me was named after a beautiful and much loved scenic spot which is
the source of our main river. He was named Mowai but the name they gave me was not related to
anything tribal or common. Nevertheless, Pati was a new found word and may have sounded
sensational and attractive to the one that thought it fitting me and to remember the celebration that
the people had just had. This, I have carried it for the rest of my life, only changing one letter along
the way to give it a change of tone for what I felt gave me comfort.

A late grand relative of mine named Uutara (Uuvo) who often boasts of been the one that named
me was Navawo’s young uncle, his father’s younger brother. Navawo’s family tree reveals that
Laviya was not his real father, he was an uncle but his biological father was called Yavukala whose
father was Nemesinava, a wise and powerful tribal leader. He would be my great grand father who
had brothers whose names were peter, john, mark. Their father’s name was John and he had many
brothers. Their names were mack, Elijah, Thomas, Michael. These stock forms the basis of the
Hegetoru peoples family tree.

The family tree that makes up the Hegetoru Tribe had for a very long time throughout my life
amazed and facinated me and often caused me to think deeper about its history as I grew older. It is
the extent of this name throughout Lufa and boardering areas in the other districts that interests me
most and leads me to often raise many unanswered questions. Where did it come from, how did it
get its name, what did the name Hegetoru mean, why did they settled in two distinct locations in
Lufa, is there any relation to other people in parts of Henganofi, Okapa, Bena and Goroka that also
happen to carry the name Hegetoru? It would be interesting to dig deeper but this is not the goal of
my story and perhaps it could be told better in another way. For now, my interest is in Navawo’s
family tree inorder to define his identity and bloodline. His father Nemesinava was the son of ????

Houlu and Latalu

How Hegetoru Warriors took ownership of Hegetoru 2
How did they take ownership of Hegetoru 1
Where did Hegetoru come out from
Why did they move places
Where was their original settlement.

Nawavo never talked about his childhood, perhaps too painful for him and the story of his parents
had never become clear to me over the many years growing up with him. But by listening to uncles
and elders speaking of his past, it became apparent that his father died and his mother remarried
within the clan. He grew up mostly with his maternal relatives when he was small and eventually
moved to live under the care of Hasuta, his uncle and our clan chief. Nawavo talked sometimes
about how they travelled between Hegetoru 1 and Hegetoru 2 when they were boys. He obviously
has a quite and humble character and is not much of a talker or a story teller. The excitment to tell
stories of his past only gets interesting whenever he has had some beer. On such occasions
throughout his later years, he would tell us some bits and pieces about his young life and his
encounters with the changing era, people he had met and things he first saw and touched. One in
particular was about his first encounter with white missionaries at the Hairo faith Mission station in
Lufa, about what salt and axe meant to him and how they were presented with a piece of cloth to
wrap around their waist by an uncle. To him, that cloth was the greatest presant on their body that
marked them out from the rest of the village boys. It was a special boost for them to wear as young
fellows, something they thought made them attractive.

On very few occasions, He tells of how he passed through his initiation and he talks about how it was
tough, agonizing and difficult but believed those all happened for good reasons. Though not in a
strict sense, I could relate to that as passing out from a higher and prestigous institution on land like
a univesity. He recalled that for their passing out ceremony, like always, leaders from tribes near and
far were inivted to be special guests. These leaders were engaged throughout the event period
which lasted for some weeks to give special talks in the housemen about things that would make
them real men and earn them respect, the skills and knowledge they must have to be counted in the
tribe, what they should avoid, when and how to find women partners, and most of all how to be
ready at all times to stand up for the tribe’s name and its survival in times of enemy threats, insults,
arguments and attacks. The key message was tribe first, meaning they were born man to defend and
protect their tribal boundary, women, children and properties from enemies.The young men who
were about to be released into the world were told their first and paramount duty was to the tribe.
Navawo recalled that his best mate was Yavane, closely related and from the same clan were always
together before and during the initiation period. They both have a special bond and called
themselves poroman to this day in the pidgin lingua meaning mate. It seems fitting and makes both
feel better for the good and hard times they have had together right to the point of graduating from
the initiation school. The ceremony and celebration that followed their passing out was the biggest
and may have been the last leading to the encounters of the modern era.

After the Initiation ceremony, the graduate was allowed to live an independent life choosing when
and how he applied his duties and responsibilities to the clan, and how he allocated fun times with
his peers. They could now build their gardens and go hunting on their own and take on tribal or clan
roles on important occasions. But what still remained a law for them was to be in the company of
their elders most of the time and as required of all men, they were to strictly live in the Houseman.
The only time they could build a house they will call their own would be the one they built for their
wife after they got married. Their partner or wife was carefully arranged from clans within the tribe
and if not found from within, they could pick a distant relative from neighboring tribes.

As for the Hegetoru tribe, we have two major distinct clans and number of sub-clans which are very
closely related. Navawo’s clan is called Utunu ina (black people) and sometimes refered to as the
Houlu clan. Houlu was the ancestor from which the Utunu clan emerged. The second clan in the
tribe is call Havagabeda or sometimes refered at as Ao ina (red people). The practise had been that
the Utunus may only marry into the Avagabedas and vice versa and not any other sub-clan of the
Hegetoru tribe. That was how my mother from the Havagabeda clan was chosen and arranged to
this Utunu man, whom I have come to relate to as Navawo.

What Navawo did as a member of the tribe

How did the Hegetoru tribe come about
Navawo tried to attend school
Navawo got recruited for planatation work in Central Province (Koitake – Sogeri)
Navawo got recruited for for Plantation work in New Guinea Islands.
Navawa did work for Church cutting timber.
Navawo found a new home in Simbu
Navawo’s life in Simbu

From Village to Pre-school - Navawo’s confidence Chapter 4

I have occasionally think to myself about what Navawo was thinking when he just made up his mind
and bravely pursued it to enrol me in the school year of 1973 at Kundiawa pre-school. The time
between my arrival and this enrolment was too short for a village boy like me to be ready in every
sense of it for school. My first biggest problem would have been language. I was nothing but full of
my own vernacular which was my only language of communication at this stage for me although I
was merely beginning to pick up some pidgin words in my first few months in Kundiawa. Secondly,
this school was international in every aspect as it was a feeder school to the Kundiawa international
primary school and overwhelmly attended by foreign children and dominated by expatriate
teachers. The pre-school been its extension was no different. It was taught and managed by
expatriate teachers and their board members with the help of few notable nationals who held
respectable jobs in town. Along with the expatriates and well to do nationals that lined up to enrol
their kids in this school, was this determined man who apparently wanted his boy to be in school so
much that nothing could get in his way, be it money factor or job status. And in any case, so far as
job factor was concerned, he could not compare in any way with the class of people in the queue. He
was a common man, with no formal Education and or some type of special skills. But his conviction
was firm and showed great determination to give his boy an education, however and whatever it
took. Not even the thought of this school status or the cost of school fees was going to deter and
discourage him from his goal. Standing in that queue that morning, Nawavo was confident of me
getting enrolled and sure enough, he succeeded. Walking out of the gate together I remember his
face flashed with joy but I was nervous about school.

Fundamentally, how Navawo came to value the importance of Education will remain his own story
but his appreciation, interest, desire and dream to achieve something different for him, his family
and tribe was expressed and demonstrated in his eagerness those days in the early stages of my
formal education. When all seemed tough, different and difficult, he won the challenges to his
objective through sheer determination and his body language that convinced the school
management that he was a genuine and serious parent. He had the option to enrol me at Gon and
Prinokwa Primary schools which were the normal schools for people in his category. He had
mentioned on several occasions that Gon Primary School turned us away because they told him that
I was not ready for school. And he could have waited for the following year when things would be
right for me to attend school. However, that rejection at Gon school only added fuel to his drive to
find me a space in Kundiawa Pre-school.

In his simplicity, I still could not yet imagine and comprehend the persuasive skills he had and used.
Perhaps it may have been more to do with sympathy for him rather than persuasion that guaranteed
me a space. Nonetheless, one thing that made me proud of him was his commitment to the school’s
well being and development. He would always be the first to come in and last to leave doing a lot of
the physical work. A particular expatriate member of the board, no idea if he was the Chairman but
always found time to chat with Navawo. I remembered us getting lifts on his vehicle once in a while
and surprisingly he gave him money on few occasions. Navawo when relating to that encounter had
mentioned to me number of times that this Whiteman was a God send good samaritan who showed
understanding and helped him out in his shortfalls for school fees that were paid fortnightly. He had
wondered too sometimes if this whiteman was one of his dead relatives from the past. Blessings
such as that was never anticipated and he believed this helped him a great deal to keep me in school
to the end of 1973.

The chief concern among the list of issues which to me would have been the toughest for Navawo
was his source of income. He had to keep me in school for the calender year which begs the issue of
sustainable income for the fortnightly fees and our living cost. How was he going to do this as he had
no long term work engagement? The types of jobs available for people like him in those days in
Kundiawa were shop keeping, house servant for expatriates, drivers, general laborer jobs with
building or road construction companies, casual jobs with the Public Works Department(PWD) or
other government agencies and bussiness offices. Navowo couldnt possibly pass for jobs that require
some element of reading and writing as he was completely illiterate. From the list of options, he was
limited to general mannual jobs and I think he knew that very well and trusted in his physical ability
to serve and please his employers to keep a job he found.

Around the time of my enrolment, he had got himself a job with PWD and was posted on road sides
in and around the township doing stone baskets to prevent road slips, construct concrete drains for
the main town roads and maintain the general up-keep of roads such as cleaning drain blockages,
fixing land slips and cutting growths along the road sides, all carried out under the supervision of a
PWD road foreman.
Talking about foremans, there was one particular character that attracted some bit of my attention
whenever I went along after school to watch Navawo or waited for him until he finishes his work for
us to go home. He was a huge man, heavily build and had commanding voice and who in his right
mind could not obey such a giant. He always made sure his team of workmen did their jobs right and
to the details of his instructions. But he was also a boss that got his hands dirty in order to achieve
work targets for the day. He engages with bustling smiles, talks and jokes a lot so I guessed his team
respected and enjoyed his company. He had a special regard for Navawo and the Goroka men that
were in his team. Perhaps that maybe because they worked extra hard in order to please and keep
their jobs as they were so far away from their home Province. But there was another better reason
for their boss to show interest in them. He happened to come from a place around the border of
Sinasina and Chuave and generally regarded himself as coming from the Eastern end of Simbu. He
also had special attachment to Goroka because of his many relatives that lived there and perhaps he
himself did some of his schooling there as well. I was normally afraid of him and merely observed
him from far whenever I got around and that was good enough for me but his story got interesting
for me in my later years whenever I put his face to the name. I came to remember his name as
Anton Sil, one of PNG’s first actors that starred in the moving film called Wokabaut Bilong Tonton
and later followed by another movie called Marabe. He became a movie star and I never knew how
he got selected for his roles but he had remained someone on my list of special people and
encounters in my life.

It must have been good luck of some sort for Navawo as encounters with people like Anton Sil kept
him in the jobs in very critical times. Navawo trusted himself enough to achieve his intention of
keeping me in school and did not allow any negative distraction to become a deterrance for him in
anyway. He simply took the gamble of ‘cart before the horse’; enrol first and worry about how to
deal with the fees whenever the need for that presented. His strategy worked as he succeeded in
keeping me in school for the whole year but with greater sacrifice to the comfort of his family.

With a firm intention to have me start school immediately, Navawo had returned that Christmas of
1972 to our village in Lufa and brought my mother and baby brother Mowai to Kundiawa. I had only
been in Kundiawa probably less than five months before feeling the pressure to attend school and
not to mention the home sick feeling that I had not gotten over with yet. But the decision to bring
my mother closer may have been a clever compromising approach on his part to entice my interest
in school. That did work as it took away the emotional imbalance I was carrying since arriving in
Kundiawa. Besides that, I felt complete once again with her and my little brother around which was
normal for me.

Attending school with white children and others of well to do parents would have been the greatest
challenge for me. Well, first I think I really didnt understand the concept of School. The only idea
that may have existed in my mind about school was the experience with Chief Waino when he
attempted to get me and my buddy Uvevira into school in my home village couple of years back. But
this was different. I had left my village and now placed in a no choice situation in Kundiawa where I
just had to be in school. Some questions still ring in my head. What gave Navawo the level of
confidence that I could get through this school even with no language of communication to learn
things in school, interract with my teachers and class peers ? How did he expect me to fit in to this
new environment and be just fine? Did these issues concern him? I believe not. Navawo’s
determined approach points to his believe that I would get over the temporary setbacks quickly and
settle into school. He definitely had no issues with it. As for me, I was just a village kid, a new arrival
from Lufa and my language of communication was pretty much my own vernacular which nobody in
the school ground could understand. The first couple of months would have been a nightmare for
me as I truely reckoned I was moving about like a dumb in the school. My school mates would have
observed something peculiar about me as I was mostly quite and merely imitated or followed
whatever they were doing.

MY FIRST DAYS AND MATES AT PRE-SCHOOL – Tolly Tara, Paul Nombri Sau, Robert Robin,

I could not say whethher I did really enjoy my pre school days, particulalry those programmed hours
at school. It seemed ages ago but from memory, the first few weeks were indeed troublesome for
me. Every encounter starting at the gate of the pre-school premises to the classroom setting and the
people around me were all new and different in every way. I remembered been very nervous and
scared when i was ushered into the classroom for the first time and I could not even climb the steps
confidently and stumbled once or twice. I turned several times to find Navawo still watching, as if
saying “ am here, go on”, and as the door closed, the real shock began for me. I was on my own in
this new world, in the belly of a modern house which was superbly set up as a school room for pre-
schoolers. I couldnt rationalise in my mind with the eyes and mind of a typical village boy. You could
say this was a culture shock in a way but it was a reality shock for me at best and the introduction to
my journey into the modern world, a rare privilege and opportunity Navawo somehow believed in so
much. I did not make sense of many things that happened that day or understood much of it, as I
was observing and experiencing what was unfolding before me for the very first time and i was kind
of lost and speechless most times. I think the teacher took notice of my state of mind.

To questions directed at me, my responses were simply that of imitating how other kids before me
reacted or responded but more with a shy body language, with which I either stared back at the
teacher looking lost or nodded in agreement to the questions directed at me. What I was lacking
here simply was the language to understand and communicate a respond. I hadnt yet picked up
enough pidgin language and English was completely foreign to me as I was hearing it spoken to me
for the first time. The teaching assistants who were nationals spoke some pidgin to help us follow
instructions given by the head teacher correctly as we progressed into the week and on. I had to just
watch and follow to keep my involvement and I remembered that the teacher and her assistants
were very helpful to me.

I had quickly realised that the first thing I had to learn was my Teacher’s name as we were always
expected to greet her first thing every morning. She was a white woman and her name was Mrs
Kelly. These experiences became the order and routine for me in the school room for the first few
weeks. And as weeks turned into months, I had learnt and adapted well enough to do just about
anything my pre-school mates could do, though I still lacked confidence and often had nervous break
downs before my teacher and among friends. I think it was not only my inability to communicate
well that troubled me, but deep in me, I carried an inferior feeling that shyed me away in many
ways.

However, on the positive note, I got tuned into the english language faster and better than pidgin
which I believed I had skipped when Navowo rushed me into this school. This may have been a good
thing after all because aparently this environment turned out to be the best breeding ground for
nurturing modern Papua New Guineans. I was a product of that beginning which had introduced me
to talking, playing and sharing with children of other races, who were whites, Indians and Asians. As
children, we all did everything together and at that innocent age, our world was free from adult
prejudice, prejudgement or descrimination. During recess or after shoool when we were waiting for
our pickups which was the rule, we would be racing each other, tackling, swinging on monkey bars,
climbing up on slides and flying down and they were even able to freely open their lunch boxes to
share with me. You couldnt exhange anything for these beautiful moments when you grow up and
realise that the real world is different, and when you learn of the hard facts about the disparities,
injustices and differences that exit in the adult world. But one thing is for sure, we are all just human
beings, despite color and race that live on planet earth and if we could only see things the way
children percieve it, it would be a much better world.

My school hours were pretty much packed and the exciting activities, the friends I was with day in
day out, the drawings we did, games we played everyday, the songs we learnt to sing, the stories
read to us, the refreshments that were given every 10 oclock reccess, and the routines of lining up to
use the toilets, washing hands and learning table manners as we ate. motivated me enough to keep
returning to school. From the eating experience, two items on the daily menu that tasted horrible
for me were milk and cheese. It was funny how i would keep my eyes on the jar that had thick brown
drink and followed it until it was my turn. That was Choclate and I enjoyed it because it was sweet. I
loved it so much that at all cost avoided milk but at times the teacher would watch over me to take
it. On that table everyday for the first few weeks, my taste bud was putting me to the extreme test
of tasting and finding comfort in enjoying what the others were not too fussy about. I never learnt to
get over the two food items until I was convinced many years later that they were good for the body
and have now become my favorites.

Coming from a very traditional family, the absence of a balanced meal was a reality in our home. It
was not something I complained about, wanted so much, or even asked for after getting used to the
tastes of the food at school. Simply, these were fancy and expensive food items which Navawo could
not afford. Even if he had the money, they would be too unreal in our home. Like me, the taste
would be unfamiliar to the family. This was why the experience on the table was different for me.
Nevertheless, the lessons at the school table prepared my small mind and that of my mates,
especially the national kids for a life that would soon be different from a typical traditional home.
Outside us something was happening. The political climate and consciousness was pointing to
change. I believe, our teacher Mrs Kelly was very much aware of the fact that the manner and
approach to the school year of 1973 would be different. Australia had granted Papua New Guinea a
self governning status and everything in the country was on a change mode. But of course, I didnt
feel it or saw anything peculiar, and at my age, everything for me was normal and exciting.

My Teacher’s Sympathy

I still recall the few occasions when I received special attention from my teacher. I do not think it was
a sign of admiration of any sort for a favorite kid or a way to entice me into getting more involved in
school. I have come to comfortably accept that Mrs Kelly’s reactions to me were out of sympathy. I
believed that apart from been a very quiet and shy kid for the obvious reason, I must have been sick
looking as I was skinny with a bulging stomach. Was I really a type of kid that had Mrs Kelly’s caring
eyes on me? That may well be the case as I also recalled that I was taken in her car number of times
to the Kunidiawa General Hospital for some sort of check-up and treatment.

Those short drives to the main outpatient and in to the children’s clinic from our School was usually
worrying for someone like me who was new to many things. I remembered feeling scared and
nervous on those trips to the Hospital and even in the funny looking round car known as Volks
Wagon (VW) owned by Mrs Kelly, I would be feeling totally uncomfortable. However, It was the sight
of friendly looking people who worked there that captured much of my imagination apart from
pretending to put up with the typical hospital odour which I never liked at all. I had observed with
admiration the white uniforms worn by doctors and sisters, nurses in blue and purple dresses that
depicted trainee nurses to be caring and loving people. What was peculiar for me particularly were
the expatriate workers. There were a good number of white doctors and nurses but I singled out
couple of Indian specialists there with exception as I was seeing this race of people for the first time
too.

One Indian doctor in particular lived in a huge white house on the hill near the location of my home
and I somehow developed a frienship with his children. This had no link to my trips to the Hospital
from the school as I never really met their father who was a doctor. But like all experiences in our
innocent childhood years, children see no boundary between race, color, sex, status and position. It
is what our adult parents see that creates differences and demarcations because they set the rules.
Once kids cross paths and make friends, that was it. They created their own world and rules in which
to play. That was how it was for me and their children which gave me an early opportunity to
observe the lifestyle of an expatriate Indian family. One attraction I never really forgot was the very
long hair of their mother that beautifully curled right down to the back of her knees. For a village boy
that just came out of his own world thinking no other people existed, this sight was peculiar and
captured my imagination for some time until I saw many other such people in my later years. At my
age and still thinking like a village boy, I would have had a troubled mind wondering whether this
group of people did really lived in this world.

JUMBO – THE FIRST LIVE ELEPHANT IN PNG

One particular exciting encounter stand outs in my mind to date during the 1973 school year. It was
the arrival of an elephant called Jumbo into Kundiawa town. At that pre school age, it was one thing
seeing drawings and pictures of elephant in the school room and another the extraordinary
excitment at the news of the live giant creature truely coming into our home town.That was a
historic and one of a kind event and people must have come from all over the Simbu Province to
have a glimpse of this live foreign animal. I could still recall the multitude of people at the Dickson’s
oval when our class was brought in by our teacher with the help of some parents. We watched it
perform from a fair distance. My encounter remains very vivid because I had the best view of Jumbo
sitting on the shoulders of Mrs Kelly’s husband, as it played mouth organ and sprayed water on itself
and on lookers as the crowd stood and watched with amasement. For someone like me , this was
phenomenal and it had such impact on me that I still remember it as clearly as i saw it. I could have
missed it had it not been for this school.

As records showed, Jumbo was brought in the country to be a key attraction at the Mt Hagen Show
of August 5th, 1973. The news of it going into the highlands spread fast and was so overwhelming
that people flocked into the towns and along the highway to get a glimpse of Jumbo. Kundiawa got
its opportunity on the 3rd of August. Jumbo’s trip to PNG was sponsored by none other than the
South Pacific Brewery company (SP), a legacy it continues to uphold in the sponsorship of big events
and sporting competitons up to the recent times.

For me the concept of school was never really registered in me and I started off lonely and lost at the
start of the school year but as weeks and months progressed into the year, i had got used to the
routine of the school programmes and soon found myself enjoying many of the activities, suffice to
mention many good friends I made among my class peers, both national and expatriate kids. Some
friendship grew stronger and lasting because certain circumstances allowed us as kids to meet after
school in the neighbourhood or at church services and Sunday schools more often then others. The
three names that will continue to surface in that part of history are Tolly Tara, Robert Robin and
Paul Sau Nombri.

The Ega Lutheran mission station where we met on Sundays for church services with our parents and
siblings contributed significantly to cement our botherhood and made us very formiable friends over
the years. Robert’s parents hailed from New Ireland and his father Robin was one of the senior
managers at the Public Works Department branch in Kundiawa. His mother worked as a matron at
the Kundiawa General Hospital. At Ega, church services were conducted for united church members
in the same Lutheran chapel based on a long term usage understanding which both denominations
had put in place. The congrigations of both Churches organised and mixed so well that it made me
believed for some time that we were all Lutherans. Paul, Tolly and I were Lutherans because our
parents were all baptised members of the Lutheran faith. Tolly’s parents and mine came from
Provinces that are predominantly Lutheran in terms of Church network. Both his parents came from
Finschafen in the Morobe Province and both mine from Lufa in the Eastern Highlands Province. Our
friend Paul is of mixed parenatge. His father hailed from Simbu and Mother from Morobe. His father,
Mr Martin Nombri was a trained Administrator and held important positons in the Province in this
period. Mama Anna Nombri, his mother was a popular figure, like a women leader of some sort and
we all loved her. As I recalled, she was also the assistant teacher at our pre-school so it was kind of
easy to relate to her. The brotherhood ring grew bigger as we moved up into the Primary and
secondary school levels but the core remained intact.

RING OF BROTHERHOOD LAFANAMA –TARA BOND CHAPT

KUNDIAWA AS I SAW IT CHAP 6.

The location of the Kundiawa pre-school at the popular road intersection always made it easy to see
what was going on and who was moving about. All business roads from different sections of the
small town enter and melt into this intersection which hosts a culvert bridge under which the much
loved Ega creek (Ega nigl) runs. Kundiawa in 1973 as I remembered it was a bustling lovely town of
many races; whites, Asians, indians and Papua New Guineans who lived, worked and did business in
harmony and I must add that it was a very neat and organised town to live in. From the eastern end
comes the main town road that dissolves into the intersection of the bridge and transforms into
three road outlets. The one that runs north west goes into the Police barracks and further splits into
two, one heading straight into the well known Papua Compound forming a ring road and the other
curves around number of bends and heads up straight, ending in a T junction infront of the only
Seventh Day Adventist Chapel in town . The second road runs straight ahead westward, passing the
catholic church on the left, direct up to what used to be the first town market and the first Simbu
mobile squard barracks and then turns uphill passing by what is now the Sigarap market. As it climbs,
the police barracks road curves in to meet it at the SDA chapel somewhat marking out and shaping
the township boundry of the western end. The converged road then travels further uphill to meet
the Okuk Highway passing by the Gon Community School which sits on a plateau, yet sloping at 45%
angle from the North-Eastern end into the Highlands higway.

The third road from the intersection travels southward going passed the hospital, drops into the
southern end of the Dogor creek then snakes its way passed Mirane, crosses the whagi bridge and
turns southeast after Krokoa crossing the Dom sloppy tribal landscape at a vertical angle and when it
turns south again from the faith mission station (karilmaril), it penetrates deep south going into
Omkolai and then Gumine station. From the south bound trunk road, two feeder roads branched
westward into the residences comprising the township roads. The first breaks off before the Hospital
and goes passed the Kundiawa Sports club, the International school, Catholic church, all located on
the left and heads up and joins into a ring road that surrounds the Premiers Hill. The second turn off
begins about five hundred meters after the hospital (junction – elcom and foursqure church) and
curves around into the area called Malaria and after the Nursing school it makes a steep climb,
passes by my home location, then goes passed old Dickson’s house and connects into the ring road
at a point on the southern side of the Premier’s hill. From the northwest side of the ring road from
an angle adjacent to the NBC compound, the road extension from there curves around and runs
between the market and police barracks to link up with the road coming up from the intersection.
The final one that comprises the business road network in Kundiawa town is a dead end road that
goes right through the town, runs around the front end of the airstrip, then passes by the Kundiawa
Dickson’s field and then splits into two. The first split passing adjacent to the airstrip heads by the
Works Department establishment that comprises offices, warehouses, workshops, government
vehicle pool and supply stores and ends up in a coumpound of residences of the works department
staff. The second split passes through the works department establishment from the eastern side
and after the apprenticeship single sqarters building, it headed straight to a dead end stop in the
Kundiawa vocational technical school, which had been replaced recently by the state of the Art
Kundiawa General Hospital. To bring the complete town road network into perspective, the picture
is complete with one more significant road that served the Ega Lutheran mission station and
properties. This begins out of Okuk Highway opposite the Kunidiawa police headquarters and heads
north ward for about a kilometer which provided access to and serves the Simbu Lutheran Circuit
Head quarters at Ega.

Beneath the road intersection near my preschool flowed the Ega creek, a significant feature of the
Kundiawa town landscape. This creek emerges from the beautiful Gambagogl range of the
Kameneku tribe which runs north immediately above Kundiawa town subsiding into a breath taking
gorge creating the famous Sigewaki cave, and then evolving into a deep narrow pass beneath to let
the famous Simbu River (Wara Simbu) run. The Ega Nigl swells abit at a certain point at the back of
the southern end of the airstrip as it meets the ever flowing Dokor Nigl. The Dogor creek runs
perfectly through the heart of the Eduka tribal land springing out from Gonbo, an Enduka clan village
, between Anigl and Gon Community schools which are situated along the famous Okuk Highway
going west from Kundiawa town. Both these two creeks meet and feed into the Wara Simbu at a
point that encompasses another gorge created by the drop from Mirane flat and the sloppy Dinga
tribal range in the south direction forming a major tributary to the world reknown whagi river. The
nature magically allows this sometimes fast and dirty, and other times quite and deadly looking river
to flow south east direction allowing all the rivers of the eastern end to join force, including my tribal
rivers as it passes through Lufa at the bottom of Mount Michael into the Karimui area and eventually
forming into and becoming a major contributor to the giant Purari River.

Apart from some interesting features that made the little highlands town popular to locals and
visitors alike, Kundiawa’s location as the gateway to the world reknown Mt Wilhem, the highest
peak in Papua New Guinea places it uniquely on the world map, making it a big attraction for tourists
and mountain climbers. Scores of expatriates with their bag packs were a common sight in the town,
at the main PMV stops, climbing on or getting off PMVs at Yuwai; the entrance village leading to the
Gembogl rugged region which holds Mt Wilhem, or walking in to the Kundiawa Motel and the
famous Simbu lodge for rest and relaxation after having made the trip. Adding on this list were
frequent inflow of tourists. There was no shortage as bus loads of them would drive in to Kundiawa
along the Highlands Highway from Hagen or Goroka quite frequently. The ones coming in from
Goroka were easily identified with the Daulo top flower band decorations on their heads. They
would freely walk around in groups of couples, partners and families looking intently for souveniors.
Apart from looking for things to buy, many would just enjoy seeing the locals, stopped and shook
hands occassionaly which always provokes excitement and laughter. The visitors would keenly keep
their eyes out to take pictures with those that came into town in traditional costumes. The town was
never sort of girls in traditional costumes and men in traditional warrior dressing adding attraction
and color. Interestingly, those who did this, did it out of respect and enjoyment rather than with
commercial motivation. Whenever tourists took pictures with them, they would normally pay them
token of appreciation and there was no price tag. There were many locals who knew of the
opportunity to make money and would come to the fronts of Kundiawa motel or Simbu lodge with
their traditional artifacts and handicrafts to sell. The atmosphere of peace, respect and order in this
small town was boosted by the scores of frequent visitors and tourists that passed through it.
Between 1972, the time I landed in Kundiawa town and september 1975, when Independence was
granted, Kundiawa was pretty much a colonial town. It was full of expatriates, mostly Australians in
all key government offices and a good number of Asians, particularly chinese who operated big
shops.

Kundiawa is popularly known as the Four Corner town. Those of us who grew up in this little town in
its formative period would quickly identify to this label because we had lived in it and understood its
features. In my young years, label such as four corner town did not cross my path or existed in my
vocabulary. For me, It was my town, I loved it and enjoyed living it in. There are many memories that
flashes across my mind about the organisation and spirit of people in this place. In terms of
businesses operation, Collins & Leahy had the largest establishment. They had a butcher shop near
the police station, a bulkstore oppositie the post office and a supermarket and a shop adjacent to
the Kundiawa motel. I also belived they owned and ran the Kundiawa Motel, the public pub and the
popular Simbu sports club which was located opposite the Kundiawa International school. In terms
of the four corner formation, Collins & Leahy occupied the western side points of the four corner,
with the butcher shop at one end and the bulkstore at the other end. On the two eastern side
points of the corners, a chinese shop stood at the southern end and the PNGBC operated at the
northern end next to the police station. Between these two, the steamships Company operated the
largest supermarket among the others in town. On the western side, between the collins & Leahy
setups, there were chinese shops and two other facilities in between. The first Simbu Area Authority
Government operated from the building immediately after the butcher shop. Following that was a
big chinese shop and after it, the Simbu Savings and Loan Society which opened its first bank facility
there. This building stood directly across the road from the Kundiawa National Broadcasting
Commission (NBC) building. Two other shops after this were the TD electrical shop and another
chinese shop.

The land between this chinese shop and the Collins and Leahy bulkstore was redeveloped into a
movie theatre by the Tokma Group of companies owned by Late Sir Iambakey Okuk.This idea was
the best thing that ever happened for us as the wave of reel movie phenomenon was sweeping
through the region with great impact. Night and day shows were on throughout the week which
often attracted capacity audiences until the dawn of video screens in the early 1980s. These
establishments and structures marked out the four corner feature of the beautiful small Kundiawa
town.

However, the town as I saw it then would be incomplete without a glimpse of the establishments
surrounding the principal features already described. The distinct feature of the town was marked
out by the roads that ran in and out of it. The road that ran into the town from the intersection near
my pre-school ran passed the Kundiawa public pub and motel on the right and the post office on the
left, going straight to curve around at the end of the airport near the Talair Terminal, then ran north
wards for about 100 meters and turned east direction for about 200 meters and then curves around
the northern end of the airstrip and heads south direction towards Dickson’s field and the Works
Department establishments. Between the airport terminal and the colins & Leahy shops situated
next to the motel, there were group of stores consisting of a haus kai and shops which were mostly
ran for by a particular ethic group of people called the Bukas.

I learnt about the Bukas better later in schoool that this black ethnic group of people came from a
particular part of Papua New Guinea from the New Guinea Islands region. In fact, the stores were
called Buka stores. These group of people were always a unique sight of attraction for us the locals in
town as well as visitors. There was something peculiar about their attitude. I observed them quite
early in my life to be a group of people who express self confidence, no lack of insecurity, aggressive
and protective. They could face and absorb any form of challenge that came by them. They would
confidently participate in social and sporting events. For this reason, they had a good following and I
was one of their fans. I was always thrilled to watch them participate in string band competitions
who on many occasions took out first prices. Story has it that they were brought into Kundiawa by
Mr Masion, father of businessman Paul Masion who sold of his businesses in Bougainville and settled
in Kundiawa. Years later after Paul took over the reign of business, he changed the name to Sika
Stores, by keeping the ‘ka’ from Buka and adopting ‘Si’ from Simbu to reflect new ownership and to
create a lasting customer rapport and base. Their haus kai was popular for its fish flour which was a
favorite meal for many that came into town from the villages to do business.

Immediately after the Buka Stores was the airport and the only terminal that existed at that time.
Talair was the only aviation company that had a terminal office and other smaller airlines did travel
in for business but did not have physical presence. Air Niugini came into Kundiawa many years later
beginning with its controvesial Dash 7 planes that were forcibly brought into PNG from Canada by
then Minister for Transport Late Sir Iambakey Okuk. The controversy stemed from the fact that the
National Executive Council (NEC) headed by Sir Julius Chan in 1984 never discussed and approved
the purchase and the introduction of this model of planes in Papua New Guinea. However, this often
aggressive and fortright Minister happened to be visiting Canada and liked the planes so much, he
wanted it for the small airstrips in his country, including his very own Kundiawa airstrip that he
signed the documents to purchase the planes. He then pursued the government to buy the planes
and they did. There were many questions raised but it turned out to be the best decision as the
planes were used widely and loved across the country for its capability to reach smaller airstrips
providing much needed air service to the people.

The Kundiawa Council chamber building and offices were situated across the road from Talair
terminal at the northern end. In time, what used to be a free space between the Talair office and the
council offices was taken over and developed in to the present struture which held the PNGBC bank
then and converted to BSP bank as known today. In the North west direction, about 30 steps from
the Council Chamber, was the Police station and cells. Bringing the four corner town description into
perspective, the land space that took up the remaining space at the northern end of the town was
fully occupied by the Police establishment. Their office complex facing the bustops of the highway at
the western side was added years later. The northen end of their perimeter fencing marked the end
of the town and at the same time drops at a slope of 75 degrees angle into the Highlands Highway.
The highway heads east and west. Immediately opposite the road after the police station
demarkated by the highway was the shell service station. This area also was the PMV stop for those
travelling to Mt Whilhem. Kundiawa also had a Mobil service station which operated on the same
side of the highway about 200 meters in the east direction from the shell operation. The popular
Kundiawa bakery establishment, some workshops and garages of construction companies had their
spaces between the service stations.

Back in town and going north direction from the post office were two beautiful fish ponds. I believe
they were part of the landscaping that were meant to beautify the NBC building complex. These
ponds had fish in them and remained a good attraction for many years until both ponds lost
affection due to lack of care. The NBC building was an interesting structure and was one of the
quality buildings in Kundiawa which had its own attraction. The popular Radio Simbu, Krai blong
Mambu aired its programs from this very building. However, it had weathered out through time and
may be due for face lift these days.

When Kundiawa public library first got establisblished, it had a good space in this building to serve
readers and borrowers. I remembered that it was in this library that I became a member and
borrowed my first reading book. Due to need for expansion, it later shifted down to Ega Creek,
where the Court Houses existed today. But before the Court houses were built, the land was
developed initially as an town market. Talking about market, the original market used to be where
the Water Board treatment plant stands, close to what is now the popular afternoon market called
sigarap. The main market was first shifted to Yuwai, opposite the Shell service station and just about
the junction and entrance of the road heading to Gembogl. Due to land issues, it then got shifted to
the court house location. Apparently, the market once again moved location to make way for the
construction of court houses, to near ega creek road intersections and infront of the Baptist church.
That also is opposite the road from my old pre-school.

The library house was shifted once again to a location at the back of a stylish building called the
Simbu Women’s Resource Center. In this location prior to these two buidlings, the area was once
designated as Provincial Government transport pool. Immediately infront across the Ega creek in the
western direction was the Hospital motuary, located at the end of the Kundiawa General Hospital
establishment. The landscape has completely changed with the Hospital having been moved to the
new location to what used to be the Kundiawa Technical vocational school, in the south direction
from the Dickson’s field. The public library is said to have moved location again and this time, found
a temporary home in one of the old hospital buildings.

What is now the Simbu Provincial administration Headquarters complex, located at an elevated flat
at the back of the NBC – Radio Simbu premises and the post office used to be called the district
offices in those days. The District Commissioner’s office was placed in a semi modern highlands style
house that was blended with traditional architecture features. It appealed to me then as quite
unique. If you stood here in front of this building, you could clearly see the Ega Lutheran Church
building in the North Direction and few meters below your feet was the main highlands higway.
Other government offices and the court houses were all clustered together within the vicinity of this
limited land space. In due course, all these cluster of houses have all been demolished and combined
in the one beautiful and iconic Kondom Agaundo Provincial HQ complex.

Mom -a typical Village woman – Chapter 7

It would have been six months or so since I last saw my mother and baby brother when I was taken
away to Kundiawa. The end of 1972 came by pretty fast and christmas was in the air, something
exceptionally new and would be the first ever one for me, though I had no comprehension of its
significance as I was innocently village minded still. Nawawo had committed to a plan in his mind to
bring both of them but I was not aware. My mother probabaly remained trusting in Nawawo’s words
and once again waited patiently for her man to come and take her with her baby. Her typical woman
mind may have raised some doubts about his return influenced by the social setting. Perhaps this
man merely came to take away her boy and may not bother coming back. He has returned to a
distant land of which she had no knowledge. She would have been once again treated to village
gossips about Nawavo going off with new women. Men interested in her may have send messages
for her. These doubts, typical village stories and chit chats, and other survival issues may have been
yet another disturbing and nerve racking experience. But she had lived through such at Hegetoru 2
once and had just walked out of it with her two boys. She had begun a new journey and she was not
going to give into all these. She remained sure and committed in her believe to join her son where
ever he may be. She kept her patience in Navawo like before and knew in her heart that he had not
lied. And there he was. Nawavo appeared once again very aware that my mother was needed in
Kundiawa before the start of the 1973 school year. When mum and Mowai joined me, I was the
happiest person, not knowing that Nawavo meant this to happen so I would be happy at school.

The name given by her father’s people was Lotumane. She was known by this name in the Dalepamo
clan but it was also said that they also originally named her Waisa. In Hegetoru, they called her
Ouama. The name registered in heaven when she got baptised was Rebecca. I called her Ouama. I
never worked out when and how calling my mother by her given name started, pretty odd, but this
was how it was and she accepted it. Mowai simply just followed in my footsteps in how he
addressed mum just as in the manner we addressed Nawavo, which means friend, referring to the
man who happened to have fathered us. Ouama was born probably in the mid 1940s to a Dalepamo
man by the name of Girai and a Hegetoru woman by the name of Maromoli.

Ouama was the first born of this marriage. She had two other siblings after her. The middle one died
in drowning at an early age and the last born was untie Oullie-inawo. I began to understand and
appreciate years later that Bubu Girai, a man of Dalepamo stock married Bubu Maromoli after her
husband had died and was living alone with her children. Adding to his own list, Bubu Girai had to
raise Uncles Lotono, Uepa, Bafe and Untie Aiyamo. I grew up liking them all because they treated me
with special care and attention. They had their own children but they regarded me with special
affection, perhaps for the reason that their sister was struggling to raise me without the support of
her husband. That made them feel responsible for me as I was their sister’s son. When Mowai came
along, they accorded the same attention but he wouldnt recall it as he was about two years old
when Nawavo took us out of Hegetoru. Nawavo’s immediate relatives were giving us support as
well, particularly Bubu Hasuta and his children who provided all the help mum needed but I felt
more affection from my maternal relatives.

Custom and cultural norms, laws and practices were at their best in that era and my mother was
born right into it. She was raised as a Hawagabeda girl, belonging to the other major clan of the
Hegetoru tribe, as well as Dalepamo lass. This was a time when girls strictly lived with their mothers
in the women’s huts and men lived seperately in their men’s house. Boys also lived with their
mothers when they were small but leave for the House men after about ten years of age, while girls
continue to live with their mothers until their engagement to men. Ouama grew up under the
watchful eyes of Bubu Maromoli and her unties. Judging from her characters and attitudes growing
up as her son, I acknowledged that she was raised under strict discipline that made her into a person
with firm survival instinct, humbleness and great sense of humility, and commitment with an
extremely soft heart for her loved ones. I once heard that she was first engaged to someone else in
the tribe but ultimately, it came down to the show of wealth. Nawavo’s uncles confronted hers with
a display of bride price items which the other side couldnt afford and so their acceptance of the
items formally closed the engagement deal. In such event, the boy and girl would have had no say.
That was the way arranged engagements were undertaken with eventual marriage formally
demonstrated in a community feast comprising both familes and community, a public display that
seals the marriage. The initial plan changed for Ouama and she was formally engaged to Lafanama
and eventually that was followed by the bride price and marriage ceremony.

Nawavo however, had revealed at times that he felt too young to be in a marriage relationship and
lived away from Ouama for number of years. Perhaps, this may have been one of the reasons why
he left very young and signed up in Goroka to work on colonial plantations in the coastal region. He
first work in the central Province at Sogeri rubber plantation and then went on to work at Koitake in
Abau district. When he returned, this time having grown a bit of confidence in himself, Ouama was
still waiting so he had to respect the custom and his elders by taking her as his wife. However, It was
not long before he had to leave my mother alone again having made gardens, with a big one for her
at Anuavitai and a house for her at Alawoi. At the time of his next departure, I was already enlisted
to make my way into the world with my mum been the only one very aware of my coming. This time
Nawavo went away to work on plantations in the New Guinea Islands, specifically in Rabaul and
Kavieng. When he returned home to Alawoi, he must have been surprisingly pleased and shocked as
well to find me already walking. That was when he attracted me with a gift in Uncle Uepa’s house at
Alawoi. I merely recognised him as a stranger and had no idea he was my father and so with a gift
he made me accepted him as a friend. He asked me to call him Nawavo. This was how the label
Nawavo came into being for the man, I could have simply called Papa. When I brought my gift of
biscuits over to her house, Ouama was curious. she had no idea that her man had quietly sneeked
into Alawoi in the wee hours when we were still asleep. I told her that it was a friend who gave it to
me.

Again this man didnt stay long enough with us. He was motivated by something new and different
and he was on a path to discover and experience more of it. When Nawavo departed again, this
time he went west from our home direction to a distant place called Kundiawa to find new
opportunities and the chance to explore further what he had seen on his earlier journeys. Nawavo
found Kundiawa to be accepting for him to settle and raise his family. He had no second thoughts
about bringing my mother there with her two boys. My mother’s patience for him paid off in full
when she finally left for Kundiawa to live with her husband, not knowing she was leaving her sweet
home for good, only to return in her spirit.

My mother was very traditional minded, a typical Hegetoru village lady of her time. She was raised in
the strict sense of cultural practices and traditional norms and had no knowledge of western
civilisation. But she probably was not too ignorant in acknowledging change unlike most of her
women folk in Hegetoru 2. She was the daughter of a Dalepamo man, whose clan shares land
borders with the Hegetoru 1 people. In her young days she was witness to the on coming changes as
she watched many white missionaries pass through her village to go to the Hairo or Gouno mission
stations. She also took part in the road construction that where done by clans with hands to connect
Goroka and Lufa. She was not totally new to western things and food. She would have had more
privilege and exposer than other girls of her age because her uncle Onopa was a tribal leader that
had been hand picked by the Australian Kiaps to assist in bringing peace and change to the area.
However, her own father lived more in Hegetoru 2 with his immediate Inlaws and raised his children
there. And that made mum to live there more and travelled between the two places from time to
time.

I would think that her principal desire for joining her husband in Kundiawa was firstly to live close to
the man she had married and to raise the boys she brought into the world as a result of this union.
The relationship has had no balance and fell short of its real meaning in the passed number of years
because of the frequent absenses of the man she had loved in her life. Now, coming to Kundiawa
was her best chance to appreciate it. She would have fallen short of appreciating the need to be part
of the changing times as she didnt understand much of it. Nawavo however had other expectations
on this relationaship, but he alone understood that because of the influence of western ideals and
what he had acknowledged as a necessary step forward for the future of his family. His dream was
neither explicit nor imposed on mum but she naturally had to step up in her roles and quickly adjust
to the new pattern of life centered around me going to school from morning to afternoon every
week day.

It must have been challencing intially for her to understand timing, what to prepare for breakfast
and how to bath and properly dress me for school. She had to be attentive and very observant to
how Nawavo handled things in the start so she would do it right. There were times I felt sorry for my
mother when she got scoulded for doing things wrongly and not as expected. He would shout insults
and be hard on her but he never hit her. That became the trade mark of his approach to her in their
life together. He probably realised they both had to step up to move with the wave of change or be
left behind. If there was a purpose in his comfort for settling in Kundiawa, he had to work at it to
realise it and to achieve that which he alone appreciated, he just had to drag mum along. Nawavo
had to be totally committed to the jobs he found and Ouama quickly perfected her motherly roles in
the town life setting and complimented that well with her gardening skills and experience. She had
more gardens than those other settlers that lived around us which allowed Nawavo to keep enough
money from his pays for my fees at the pre-school.

Ouama probably realised quickly that apart from the routines that she had to cope with in the home,
her bigger challenges awaited outside her home environment. She was no longer in a community of
her own where she knew what was happening or that was expected of her and would instinctively
react and respond. Kundiawa was a different place, a civilised and modernising community of people
whose life was syncronised in somewhat a particular routine dictated by the invisible hand of time.
Her man had discovered something new and attractive in it which she barely understood. She could
see with her own eyes that the neighbors around her home and gardens were different ethnic
people, not necessarily locals. She would have then worked out that these people ended up in this
place with probably the same intentions as us.

At times, we would all go into town, particularly on Navawo’s pay days to do our shopping, a routine
she was often not very comfortable to do in the initial years. There were many things she couldnt
relate to, understand and do it on her own or even ask to get better appreciation of things. The
business language in the town was tok pidgin and without it, she couldnt do pretty much anything.
She would normally just follow Navawo dragging Mowai behind and collect the store goods he
selected and bought. Occasionally, I would follow mum and watch from behind anticipating
something to come into my hand. But for the convenience of moving fast in the usually crowded
small town, Navawo would always want us to wait at one location so he could move about with ease
to collect the household items. Our favorite waiting spot was near the Buka store haus kai which was
popular for its fish flour. This was our favorite too and Navawo would complete his shopping rounds
by buying enough of the fish flours to share among us. When the eating was over, he would
sometimes walk us as far as the road entrance into Simbu lodge and give us some sort of excuse to
drop back into the Kundiawa Hotel to enjoy few beers before retiring home.

This became our routine for the years that followed and throughout them, Ouama slowly but surely
grew in confidence and appreciation of the new lifestyle. She would have realised that its ways were
very distinct and demanding, unlike the more relaxed approach to life in our traditional village. As
time passed and with more practice, her adaptation to town life improved more and more. Whilst
her understanding of tok pidgin was good, her spoken pidgin took time to shape up because she had
difficulty in organising her grammar and tenses. Another area of difficulty for her was understanding
money and its effective use. She could apply the use of coins with ease but using notes was hard as
she couldnt easily relate to and understand the intrinsic value of notes. Perhaps, the impact of these
two factors on her was such that she often opted to spend more of her time in her gardens, pretty
much like back home in the village.

In any case, Ouama probably didnt need to visit the shops too often because of the lack of residual
cash that Navawo would give her to keep. Most of what he earned particularly in 1973 was
consumed up in two main expenditures, my monthly fees to the school and the fortnightly
shoppings he did for the house. Whatever little that remained occassionally goes for our clothing
and at times supported customary obligations in town and back in Lufa. Her daily efforts in the
gardens brought much needed relief to Navawo on his small pay packet because he took a huge
gamble for my education, not knowing fully the scarifice that would come with it.

I remember it quiet vividly that most afternoons after coming back from work, he would spent the
remaining day lights assisting in the gardens or simply extending boundaries for new gardens. He
knew that having gardens was necessary for our survival. Just like mum, he was superbly
hardworking and both perfectly complemented each other. That collaboration and bond was missing
back then when she was alone. I often watch them work together and admire their efforts in the
gardens but didnt tune in with the closeness they both enjoyed. I had thought mum missed him
more but the more I recollect our past, I realised he missed his wife dearly too. For mum, she was
getting back what she had been missing and she needed it more than putting in the efforts to
understand and be part of the new and changing world around her. She understood her primary
role as a wife and mother very well and she would keep that even if the modern environment didnt
approve of her. They were an ordinary traditional couple and couldnt do and express their love
openly the way modern people do, but their times in the gardens gave them more joy and Ouama
proved her support in this way to Navawo on the path of his dream.

My Semi-Urban Life: chapter 8

I was merely a boy in transition, still trying to grasp what was happenning around me and at that
age, I didnt understand the pains of pressure. I was living in the kids world, the ‘Alice in wonderland’
sort of world where things around you were magical and full of wonder, you felt free and thought
you could control things that happen around you. You came home and everything was there and if
what you wanted wasnt there, you could simply cry for it. At school, I would have had so much fun
and continued with Mowai when I returned home, showing off new things I had learnt in school. We
would enjoy each other’s company until called to stop playing and tidy up for dinner. I hardly
understood the confronting realities in the adult world.

Nawavo would leave early and very often returned late about 5.30 pm looking tired, dirty and
hungry. Apart from the daily house chores such as doing dishes, laundry and cleaning the house,
both inside and outside, Ouama would go to her gardens in the cool hours of afternoons to harvest
food supplements for the evening meals. Nawavo was someone who kept his total commitment to
work and was disciplined with his attendance. Simply, he could not affort to lose any job he had.
Mum would always be working hard in her gardens and ensured the house was in order. They both
coped and buffered off the pressures and challenges that came with being in a growing urban
setting, something I never fully appreciated and took for granted. In that emerging urban condition
of Kundiawa, we lived a semi-urban lifestyle on the fringes of the town, pretty much as a class of
people segregated by our social status.

The house that I walked into on the very first night of my arrival in Kundiawa became my home for
the first six months before my mother arrived. It was owned by Lamato Lamayu, a man who hailed
from Gouno in Lufa. He was one of the pioneers from remote Lufa who arrived in Kundiawa as early
as 1970 in search of job opportunities and to be part of the tide of change. He had found a steady
job as a cook with the single quarters that housed technical apprentice staff of the Public works
department. His wife Maria had not been in Kundiawa too long at the time I arrived. She was from a
place called Kiari, located in the Nomane area of the Simbu Province. She had been organised for
marriage to Lamato by his relatives back in Gouno and came to her partner after all the customary
requirements had been completed. She spoke broken Mihive language of Lufa which I could
understand despite the difference in intonation but it was her accent that made me a bit curious as a
boy. That led me to discover years that followed that it was not her original lanaguage.

The Gounos of Lufa and the Kiaris of Nomane interestingly had traditional ties that had been kept for
ages. What made the tie unique as I realised was the difficulties and risks involved in crossing the
mighty Whagi river by either people to do business. Apart from trading in goods and sharing of
harvests, marriages between them was one main social event that solidified the bond. It was this
path that led mama Maria to Lamato. She was younger, tall and strongly build compared to Papa
Lamato who was small and of average build. I kind of thought to myself then that she was naturally
pretty but her face was obscured by the cutting of tattoo patterns on her face, something
traditionally seen as adding value and attraction to young women. Men too had patterns cut into
their body for the same purpose which left lasting black tattoos on their chests and faces.

In the absence of my mother in my early days in Kundiawa, I found much comfort in been around
mama Maria when Nawavo and rest of the male folks in the house went out to work. As she has had
no children of her own yet, I happened to be part of her daily responsibility. She used to call me
Potine, a name I recieved on my baptism back home at Kotupi in my village. Mama Maria was a soft
spoken and lovely lady and I loved and respected her for as long as I knew her.

I didnt understand the dynamics of change occuring about this time in 1972 but as young as I was, I
could see order and conformity to the government system and there was peace and apparent
respect for law in and around the area we lived. Government officials typically attracted a lot of
attention and respect because they simply stood out in the public and moved with elegance and
authority. When ever I followed Mama Maria into town or went for walk with Nawavo, I would
sometimes stop unconsciously and stare hard and long at people or things that attracted my
attention. The government officials or office workers particularly stood out in the crowd with shocks
up to their knees, short trousis and short sleeve shirts, with trimmed hair and shaved faces. I would
become even more indulged in their movement whenever somone like that was driving or stepping
out of their cars. Putting them together with their cars, I had thought they had impressive style and
looked awesome in their appearance. In fact, they really were as they represented the state
authority and seriously implemented the ideals of change. My attention in them probably
represented how the society observed and viewed these special group of people, the agents of
change in that era.

Still there was more that interested me. It was almost infectious for me whenever I saw policemen in
uniform and officers in particular who impressed on me with authority and commanded respect.
Their hair cut styles set them apart from the rest of the government work force. Aside from been
scared of them, they often stunt me whenever I crossed their path. When Nawavo catches me
staring at them, he would distract my interest by telling me that they would arrest me if I continued
to stare. He meant it as a joke but I did take it serious for a while in those days. They carried out
their duties and responsibilities with a great deal of care, discipline and commitment which I think
resulted in the community peace and good order we enjoyed in the 1970s. Their presence
summoned authority and people avoided any form of trouble with them at all costs.

At our house occassionally, I had often noticed all the young men living with us disappear as
darkness creeps in and would return in the morning. Those were times when they got information
that police would do dawn raids. They normally went out and slept in the nearby bushes or under
the shelter of the rocks in fear of been caught by police. Strictly, vagrants and unemployed people
were not allowed to stay long under one roof. Those allowed to live freely in the town community
were ones that had jobs, however odd that job was. Whenever police came to check, they would
question and collect anything they felt were state property and charged those who kept them. This
approach and the practice of routine checks imposed by the colonial policing system may have been
the reason why the town residents enjoyed peace and kept within the armpit of law.
When Ouama arrived in Kundiawa with my brother Mowai, Nawavo had to shift us to another
house. We moved west ward, almost 100 meters away from Papa Lamato’s house. This house was
small in capacity but able to accomodate us together with few of my young uncles who had joined
us. Among them, the two prominent ones were Isivi (SP) and Awalu who stood out differently from
the others. This was because they both had attended church run school and could read and write in
pidgin. Their relation to us was in a paternal way through Nawavo and both were young and
enthusiastic to find work. It was uncle Awalu that got a job first with the Malaria spray team and was
often out on patrol throughout the Province, while Uncle Isivi moved between jobs until he found
comfort in working with the Public works department doing numerous semi-skilled jobs. Life
together here in the small household was very simple. It was more or less a clan affair, except we
were in a town situation and Nawavo as the head of this family, had to lay down firm rules to guide
us to adapt and conform to what he understood as basic requirements of a town culture. My mother
had only just arrived in Kundiawa and there was much ahead for her to learn about the lifestle in
town. Whatever directions and instructions that went to her was meant for all in the house to
consider as well.

Dinner was a must-not miss meal and the daily expectation was on mum to make sure food was
always ready. We were all expected to eat together between six and seven oclock. I could recall
some occasions when Nawavo would be upset over the food prepared and became abusive and
spoke harshly to Ouama. That happened whenever the rice she boiled was too sticky or half cooked
and when the simple soup of tinned meat or tinned fish with vegestables she made didnt taste good
enough for him. As in all things, it took practise to make perfect and as time passed, Ouama got used
to his tastes and likes. Nawavo however with his soft character was never too demanding and
forceful. He always did things with lots of care and understanding. The uncles that worked or did
some part time jobs were naturally expected to do their bit in contributing to the food rations.
Drinking water was a huge problem and it was incumbent on the grown up males to somehow fetch
water in plastic containers and bring it home or go out and do that in the dark hours. They would
either go to wantoks who worked as house boys in expatriate homes or nationals in town houses
and other times even make effort to collect from the very few water taps in public locations like the
market. There was no town water supply then and all the modern buildings depended on rain water
in tanks. For other needs such as washing, cooking and laundry, we relied heavily on water holes in
the ground. Having a house at the bottom of a hill made it suitable to locate under ground water and
we had several water catchment spots where we dug holes. There was usually abundance during
wet season as we also had the option of collecting drinking water in drums using roofing iron sheets
but during dry spells our need for water to do everything was always high. We would often resort to
taking our laundry to the Dokor creek or the Ega creek on weekends and even in the week days in
desperate situations.

In some extreme dry weathers during the years we lived in this part of Kundiawa, we were
sometimes forced to walk miles down to the big Simbu river to cool ourselves and do other needed
stuff. Coming from an area where water as a need was of least concern because of our big rivers and
creeks that flowed constantly out of Mt Michael, it was a completely tough experience for us been
away from the closeness of fresh flowing waters. In such periods, the banks on both sides of the
Simbu River would be filled with people from the town including nearby villages doing varying
activities from relaxing in the coolness of the river to playing games, doing babarcues and having
tube races. High profile town families would sometimes come loaded in their vehicles with food and
planned activities and their setups often became spots of attention for those of us from simple
homes. Despite the social status of different families, we all congregated there for one common
purpose. That was to use the river and be near its coolness and so, all the way up and down on both
sides, there was never any element of segregation. Occassionally, white families would pop up to
enjoy the river atmosphere like everyone else. We all enjoyed these moments as a community of
people. It was always a fun time. Then as the coolness of the afternoon air rushes down from the
Dinga range causing the humid valley air to flow upwards to the heights of the Sikewaki lime gorge,
everyone would depart family by family leaving the banks empty again for the next day and for the
next lot of people.

I think we stayed in the location of the second house for less than a year. This was part of 1973. It
must have been in the later part of the year that Nawavo sensed the place was getting filled with
more houses as more people came in, first as individuals and than adding on women partners. He
decided to move us to a new location not too far but one that had more space and privacy. It may
have been his quiet personality that made him want to live away from the crowd, yet it showed time
and again throughout our life together that he was more focused on his family, especially the future
of his young family in the face and influence of change in Kundiawa. I didnt think then that the
location he selected was difficult and risky for human habitation. But thinking about his move now, it
seems illogical to appreciate how he chose a sloppy location in a valley some 20 meters below a
newly constructed track connnecting the Premier’s hill and the Malaria estate. It just didnt cross his
mind about the new road collapsing below or rocks rolling down the slope on us or even someone
deliberately shifting rock bolders on to the house and us, particularly our mother who was always
somewhere working in the gardens that surrounded the house. Nawavo had his mind fixed on this
area and was confident nothing would go wrong, a typical character that marked his nature. He
simply went with his spade and about the 20 meter level below, he dug into the slope cutting and
shaping a space equivalent of about 6 x 12 square meters to construct his house. He worked at it
every day into the nights after work for several weeks. He was fortunate to have some of his
younger relatives around who gave him extra hands and support to shape the space and to collect
raw tree posts for the house.

I still remember an argument and fight that ensued at this spot with someone who claimed to be the
owner of a cassarina tree. A tall and matured tree had been cut for posts by Nawavo at an area near
his settlement which this Naur man, from a neighbouring tribe to the Enduka people, claimed was
his and became upset, though it was growing some distance away from his house. The exchange of
punches and harsh words ended in some understanding between the two men. They eventually
become good friends. I have forgotten what his name was over time but he was an ambulance driver
working for the Kundiawa Hospital at the time of the incident. For me however, their fight remained
one very aggressive encounter I witnessed of Nawavo standing firm to defend his actions for the
sake of his family.

Despite the obvious dangers and threats of landslips and disturbances from people walking above
the road, we shifted to the spot Nawavo had selected for the new home and lived there happily
without any major issues for many years. This was a big house with superb bush like surrounding
with trees on both sides of the hill, submerging into a small valley and making it home to a creek
which ran between .We all liked the place pretty quickly as it resembled something close to our
village environment. The House was a simple four corner style and was divided into three sections.
The center section served as a living room with the fire place in the middle where we cooked, ate
and sat around for stories. One big room occupied three quarters of the western side from the fire
place. This was where Nawavo and mum lived with little Mowai adding to their comfort and warmth
in the usually cold nights in this valley. The remaining quarter of that side was a space big enought to
store eating and cooking utensils including food rations. The final section on the eastern side was
divided into three cubicle type rooms. I slept in one room and the other two were used by the uncles
that stayed with us and visitors that came to visit us occassionally.

But of course, the house was not free from constant adjusting and mending from weathering and
destruction by insects. Like all typical grass roof thatch houses with walls of pitpit blinds, Nawavo
ensured we did their replacements every now and then when ever needed. The scacity of pitpits for
walls and floor often takes us to spots as far as the banks of Simbu river and after cutting them,
Nawavo and my uncles would transport them back on their shoulders. The distance was far and it
was tough climbing and going over to the western end of Kundiawa town, but that was the only way
to do it. We couldnt afford to hire a vehicle. Nawavo would never let me walk empty handed and
ensured I always cut and carry enough for my age and sise.

That strickness he imposed enabled me to take responsibility early on and I learnt fast from my
uncles how to smash the pitpits and woved them into blinds for the floor or the walls of the house. I
recalled that leaking from the grass thatch roof was a constant problem in many areas of the house,
but again that was often attended to quickly as it was mum’s responsibilities to collect the kunai
grasses. It had been in Nawavo’s pride to construct a big house, but perhaps he visioned it too big as
his core family members remained constant in number. It was normal to get couple of our relatives
to stay with us from time to time but for most part, it was just the four of us, Nawavo, Ouama,
Mowai and me. He was a simple man and didnt look complicated in any way but his decision to keep
his core family small in the face of new encounters, proved Nawavo allowed wisdom at best to
guide him so he could maintain his focus. I just think he was simply smart in his judgment and
decision. It that regard, he did pretty well.

The location of our house seemed perfect and kept us away from the inconveniences of crowd and
unnecessary disturbances, at least that was what Nawavo wanted but still, we were pretty much
part of the first generation of Eastern Highlanders that swooped into Kundiawa in search of new
opportunities. In particular, Nawavo could not avoid customary responsibilites in such matters as
death, bride price and community contributions for urgent matters amongst wantoks from Lufa. In a
foreign place like Kundiawa, keeping together and supporting each other in times of need and
trouble was immensely necessary and unavoidable.

The caring and sharing culture was a well entrenched system of tradition in our tribal villages and it
resonates in reciprocity that holds together survival of people and that alone made it critical for
Nawavo. For him to succeed in keeping his family intact and achieve his goal, he had to be an active
player in the activities of his ethnic grouping. Getting together on news of deaths back home in Lufa
was often a very moving experience. The house of the deseased or an immidiate relative was
regarded as ‘ house cry’ and all would gather to express sorrow and share in the sad news. While
those that had jobs attended to work during the day, children and mothers including men that were
free would usually stay around in the house to keep company with the affected relatives. In the
evenings, different families would bring food and throughout the night, food was served and eaten
at certain intervals while songs were sung throughout. The singing of special songs to express the
lose and to remember the life of the deseased had been a common tradition practised throughout
the Eastern Highlands Province. It was common for women to cry openly while the men wept quietly
through singing and as more descriptive songs get sung, their sad emotions would get heightened
into a climax of heavy crying that draws in all those gathered. Such would be repeated several times
throughout the night and for the length of time the house cry was kept. The gathering would finally
culminate in cash contributions to help deal with customary obligations for the death and funeral
feasts back home, and as well, end the house cry with cooked food which is shared among those
that had been attending.

Apart from the frequent House cries, contributing for bride price as a group was another common
activity which all were expected to be involved. Nawavo built himself a reputation of giving to
contributions and emergency calls whenever he could. That was of course reciprocated. When ever
he had issues, those that he had gone to support came to his aid genuinely. I had enjoyed been part
of such moments growing up among them and never did I as a youth appreciate such degree of
collaboration that held everyone together in a modernising environment such as Kundiawa. Life for
us in the strata of society we operated was made easier by been together and relying on one
another. It was a way of life that gave sense of security and enhanced our survival as a family in the
new found land of opportunities. I have only in my later life appreciated the profound benefits and
impacts of such lifestyle that kept me to my roots.

Kundiawa provided the opportunities and along with them the challenges to make a living, but it also
provided a captivating social condition that made it condusive to cultivate relations beyond the
money and political influences of the colonial system and the arosing nationalistic sentiments of the
early 1970s. At their level, Nawavo and his group of Lufians and other Eastern Highlanders, I believe
were on a mission to experience the enlightenment of modern change. This system offered new life
in the form of money and goods, but they had to be employed in a job situation to enjoy such and
once with a job, they would be settled enough to access education for their children and health
services. Some among them had basic education and were able to get good jobs in shops and offices
depending on their level of literacy. In any case, most of them including Nawavo were simple village
men that were determined to face the challenge of making a living in the so called town life. These
were a bunch of men that were self invited into Kundiawa either following a relative or someone
they knew had come to work and live in Kundiawa. The first trip that took Nawavo westward from
Goroka to Kundiawa was to check on how one of his Hegetoru brothers was doing. He had followed
an uncle by the name of Ote.

Uncle Ote had come into Kundiawa as early as 1970 and was fortunate to have got himself a job as a
house boy to the District Commissioner. But even better, he had found himself a spouse, a young
lass of Gor village from the Naur tribe and were living inside the District Commissioner’s premise,
presently called the Premier’s hill. Her name was Josepha. About the same time, Uncle Mark Kuiwe
Wai had found a job with another white patrol officer by the name of Bevern Scott. He was always
on the move with his boss travelling between Karimui, Chuave and Kundiawa. Story has it that while
visitng Otte, Uncle Mark took as his spouse Philomena, a young lady who came to live with her
cousin Josepha. These two men had been living a settled life with their Simbu women by the time
Nawavo came by on his fact finding trip. When he saw that his two brothers were settled and
comfortable, he was convinced that he ought to do the same too. He had then made up his mind to
gang up with his tribesman and settle in Kundiawa.

Nawavo was in his thirties about this time so I could not be so sure if the women thing too had some
influence on his decision, but his approach from the very beginning showed he was more concerned
about life for his family. His brothers, Uncle Otte and Uncle Mark had women back home with
children too but were not keen on bringing them to the opportunities of town life, something they
came to realise much later. That was the difference between them and Nawavo. In any case, their
social relations and integration into the Simbu culture at that early stage fundamentally set the basis
for the level of comfort and confidence towards making Kundiawa their second home. For Nawavo,
it was a decision and commitment he never took for granted and perhaps never regretted.

By the time I completed my pre-school in 1973, Uncle Isivi who had lived with us in our second
house had found himself a spouse from Krokoa area in the Dom tribe of Gumine District. That
brought to three the number of Simbu women married to the Hegetoru clans men that had settled
in Kundiawa. Still in the years that followed, couple more females had tried to engage with my young
uncles who came later and lived with us but their relationships did not last. I think the marrying idea
was a brilliant strategy that removed the sense of remoteness and insecurity that came with settling
in a foreign land. This affected and conditioned all of us. I had refered to each of the three simbu
unties as Mamas because we all lived together as a clan group and they took me like their own child.

The interraction and engagements with their Simbu families at Gor and Krokoa in a way gave us
greater degree of confidence to assimilate into the Simbu Culture and traditions. A greater amount
of influence was also exerted on the level of our social interraction and integration by the main tribal
communities who were traditional owners of the Kundiawa township land. These were the Endukas,
the Kamanekus, the Yongomugls and the Dingas. However, the immediate and sustained impact
came from the Endukas as we had settled on their part of the state alienated land and we were
more closer to them than the other tribes. As time went by, Nawavo built more personal
relationships with the Enduka Clans and became more involved in their customary activities making
our family part of them. The relations and enagaments became more profound and lasting with
them as I grew up mixing with them, thereby developing a stronger connections with my school
friends and through them with their communities. The condition that set stage for the social and
cultural interractions gave my young mind an early chance to learn the Kuman language, accept their
way of doing things and assimilate into their cultural setting. Our semi-urban life situation too,
largely created the impetus for Nawavo to conveniently build bridges with locals, especially so with
the Endukas and Kamenekus. That created friendship bonds which absorbed my life and that of
Mowai with other local kids, apart from the school peer relationships which have continued for
decades.

Highlights at Primary School (1974 -1979) Chapter 9

Not that I understood the speed and nature of time and days that ate into weeks which in turn
became months and quickly condensed into a full year, the christmas drawings of pine trees, father
christmas and rain deers and the decorations we did in the pre school classroom explained christmas
was near. The next final thing I rememebered about my pre school year was a school party at Simbu
Coffee factory near Wara Simbu on a particular Saturday. I could still remember the walk from our
home to that location with my parents and little Mowai. That party had stuck in my mind as another
of the memorable encounters of my pre school life because it was at this gathering that I got my
very first experience of riding on a horse back. This encounter and occassion brought me to the end
of the 1973 remarkable school year and presented me at the door of the next chapter of my school
life.

In February 1974, I found myself with Nawavo lining up at Gon Primary School with other children
and parents in front of the classroom we had visited the year earlier about the same date. We had
been turned away from enrolling then because my right arm couldnt stretch far enough over my
head to reach my left ear. As for me, I might have thought the same may be the case. However,
Nawavo had no lack of confidence that it would be fine and that probably eminated from the fact
that he had observed me grew a bit taller. He succeeded this time in enrolling me at Gon Primary
School and immediately payed the full fee for the school year of 1974. Unlike the monthly school
fees at the Pre school, this was an one-off payment for the whole year, a significant difference
between government runned schools and private schools. It was at this school that I spent the next
six years of my school life which laid the foundation for my future path. In fact. I am proud to have
been among the first generation of post independence school children who passed through this
historic period trusting in a free and independent state of Papua New Guinea.

The year 1974 was not an ordinary year. It was the year in which I started my schooling as a first
grader and I remembered that well enough but there was something else in the air that I didnt
understand much. It was about self government and independence. Nonetheless, the order of things
about government and politics in that year were crystal clear and those have remained the historical
cornerstones upon which the nationhood of PNG was founded. Amist conerns of uncertainty and
sense of insecurity due to the proclaimation of Self government for Papua New Guinea in 1973 from
Australia – the colonial Master, the case for Independence was on the mouth of every adult.
Whether its desire, meaning and impact was understood clearly or not by the citisens, it was
something that was hotly debated among the few elites and leaders across the country, dissecting
every essence of that idea. Despite these, the reality of Decolonisation had hit home and it was
definitely in the air of 1974. The date was shockingly short but it had been set and there was no
turning back. The Australian government under Golf Whitlam, had granted the wishes of Sir Michael
Thomas Somare, the Chief Minister of Papua and New Guinea in 1973, his request for self
government, and eventual independence. The excitment, anxiety and of course, doubt, worry and
confusion as to what September 1975 would bring about was the order of thinking among the
citisens and was felt in every ensuing activity in 1974 moving towards the day.

And yes, in the school yard, our teachers were often deep in discussions and perhaps talked about it
in classrooms with senior students. But for us, me and my class mates, we were simply too small and
naive to embrace the value of what was transpiring. Yet, looking back, I am extremely proud that I
had been born in optune time to live through and experience, the unique tenseness, excitment and
joy that came in that formiable period. I was around at the time of the incubation of the idea and its
eventual birth in the shape and form of the Independent state of Papua new Guinea. What a joy it
was, something which fully engulfed me innocently without attachments to issues that affected the
adults.

My first day in the classroom of this big new school was a big contrast. I could remember clearly the
classroom and how I sat on the concrete floor among a class of kids my age feeling a bit shy and lost.
I had long forgotten the name of my first teacher but still remembered the way she looked. She had
a dark complextion, was short and an average built woman and was obviously from the coastal
region. In my last school, I was among other races including white children, had a white woman
teacher and our classroom was neatly arranged and decorated. We had plenty of room and a lot of
activity stuff. But this classroom was totally different. It was packed and looked pretty dull and
uninviting. That exact moment, I may have had the sense of missing my last school but perhaps
relunctantly accepted that this was to be my new school for some time. Most of the kids were
strangers and I remembered straining my eyes looking among the class for friends I might have
known. My confidence would have sprang to life and the shyness left me when I noticed sitting
among us was a class mate from my last school. That was Tolly Tara. I had spotted a friend and a
brother. The rest then was history.

Our class of 1974 was somewhat unique. The intake of the first graders for the year worked out to a
number sufficient for one single class only for the grade. For unknown reasons, not many kids were
registered for school that very year. The grades before ours had double classes and ones that
followed us had two or more classes of the same grade. This gave me a rare opportunity to know all
of my class mates thoroughly and remember them well with their full names still to this date.

I take pride in mentioning them and acknowledging their invaluable friendship being very mindful of
the fact that some may have passed on. For those that still have the light in their eyes to read this
personal memoire of who I believe I am, I want them to know this is also a dedication to our
friendship. In many respects my back ground, struggles, inadequecies, doubts, fears, inferiority
complex and limitatations were very different from many of them which they never had the chance
to know. I carried those with me and they, in many unseen ways during my time with them
surrounded me with comfort and embracing frienship that ushered me to reach heights. I am so
humbled to have been a class mate of these lovely people for the six wonderful learning years. Our
class list looked like this;

1.Tolly Tara 11. Christina Joanis 21. Toren Boss 31. Foggy Kobege
2. Peter Nime 12. Ana Gulg 22. Jeoffry Kuki 32. Jack Kakayo
3. Lui John 13. Helen Amos 23. Togu Yassa 33. Esther Anofi
4. Jimmy Tenefio 14. Uvevira Mark 24. Pati Lafanama 34. Pawa Nigints
5. Monica Peter 15. Mary Charles 25. Robert Robin
6. Betty Teine 16. Yuainde Kamane 26. Samson Karahure
7. Ruth John 17. Mandali Ambane 27.William Mondo
8. Rosa Umba 18. Maino Charles 28. Betty Tokiawa
9. Paul Sau Nombri 19. Nombri Bau 29. Kumulkop Muka
10. Vagi Kiage 20. Masil Sam 30. Steven Mori

We didnt all start and finished together and whilst few tagged along the way and couple others had
left by the time we passed out in 1979, there was a core group in this class that remained intact from
start to finish. I happened to be one of the core group members that completed the hard yards from
first to the six grade at this great school. The handful that joined our class in the senior grades
included Robert, Samson, William, Kumulkop, Steven, Foggy and Esther. Robert Robin who
happened to be my pre-school mate attended the Kundiawa International School mostly and only
joined our class briefly in grades four and five but then left Kundiawa for good when his father
transfered out. Samson’s father, Mr Karahure of Gulf Province was the General Manager for Radio
Simbu from 1977 to 1978 and these were the only years Samson was part of the class. Betty Tokiawa
who hailed from Milne Bay was with our class for two years only and left with her parents.

One group that started with the class in 1974 but left after the third or fouth grades included Togu
Yassah, Ana Gul, Helen Amos, Mary Charles. Accept for Mary who hailed from the Oro Province that
left at the end of grade three, the rest were locals that merely transfered to schools near or within
the Province. Uvevira Mark who happened to be my clansman left briefly with his family to Manus
after grade two and joined back in 1978 for grades five and six. In reflecfing back, it is interesting to
note from my list that a good number in the class, almost one third of us were from Eastern
Highlands Province. Including me, these were Uvevira, Masil, Toren, Togu, Jimmy, Jeoffry, Foggy,
Jack, Esther and Lui John whose mother was from Goroka. The magic of been in a single grade class
made the group more intacted and cohesive making our relationships as friends and peers much
stronger.

It never really crossed my mind then that there were these many of us from the Eastern Highlands
Province in this very class. This appreciation might also give some idea about the number of kids
from this same Province attending Gon school and other nearby schools such as Prinokwa and Anigl
Primary schools in this era. The number might have been significant as I could recall the various
Goroka settlement setups around the fringes of Kundiawa town. The main settlements included a big
one at the back of what is now G block and another was situated near Yuwai, at the back of what
was then the Kundiawa bakery. I have alluded to the influx of men in to Kundiawa town from the
east in the last chapter trying to give sense of what might have driven them this direction. It
appeared the opportunity to experience and be part of the changing and emerging modern lifestyle
that promised better life through schooling was a key factor.

Historically, Goroka as a district was more advanced and affluent at that time so those in search of
new experiences were obviously from the districts of Lufa, Okapa and parts of Kainantu and
Henganofi. I am caused to imagine too that the single largest tribal group in Kundiawa from one
particular district might have been the Hegetorus of Lufa, which happenned to be my tribe.

This included the family of my childhood friend. Uvevira was the one I had left behind in Alawoi on
my first trip out with Nawavo, but he somehow caught up with me in Kundiawa. He had come to be
with his father, uncle Mark at Chuave government station. It was at this point that Nawavo went
over to Chuave, brought him to Kundiawa and enrolled him at Gon. He had to convince Uncle Mark
that I was going to this school alone and needed a friend. This was how Uvevira, also addressed by
the name Jorrion, my one and only play mate from our village somehow became my class mate
again in a foreign land. In a way, this had accomplished the dream of our grand father chief Wai who
wnated us to be in school and to make something out of it, whatever it was, something he never
fully understood.

The ethnic composition of our class reflected the type and nature of what Gon Primary School was. It
was truely a remarkable town school that was built and opened during the colonial days and served
well the desire of the colonial administrators to educate the local people. But more important was
the work of government that the workforce that was moved about throughout the country to deliver
government services needed schools for their children. Gon served that purpose superbly well for
the state servants that came, lived and and worked in Kundiawa. Yet, kids like me were not intended
for this school. My father was not a state servant or a local man. I could rightly categorise my
father’s group as opportunists and free riders. It was some form of luck combined with a burning
desire to be in the tide of change that brought Nawavo and the other Eastern Highlanders into
Kundiawa. They could have chosen to stay back in their village or go elsewhere, unlike the state
servants who were ordered to move places.

Nawavo chose Kundiawa in these trying times and made the best of it. There was no discrimination
in the manner of enrolment and how we were arranged in class. We sat in the class as equals and
were treated likewise whether we were from the settlements, villages or the urban community. The
majority of us in this class from Goroka, as they would normally label us, were living in the
settlements. Those few in the class that attended school from the local villages included Rosa Umba,
Yuainde Kamane, Nombri Bau and William Mondo. The children of public servants from the host
Province were Peter Nime, Monica Peter, Betty Teine, Paul Nombri, Wagi Kiage, Ana Gul, Helen
Amos and Mandali Ambane.

My class of course was well represented with students from other regions. From Momase we had
Ruth John, Christina Joahness, Lui John and Tolly Tara. From the Papuan region we had Maino
Charles, Betty Tokiawa, Samson Karahure and Mary Charles. From New Guinea Islands we had
Robert Robin. And from the upper Highlands region particularly from Western Highlands, we had
Pawa Ningints who was related to and lived with Alphonse Ningints, a manager at the department of
works and a prominent rugby league player of that era. I have detailed just one grade out of five
other grades and my description goes well to make the point that the school was truely a melting
pot of different ethnic cultures, social classes and the emerging middle working class, that enbraced
the higher value of educating people for the new nation.

The Gon school created a unique growth environment that nurtured us to see others with respect
and to be guided by good values. What brought about and instilled in us the values of respect and
result driven attitude was I believe, something to do with the teachers we had. I could rate those
that were there in my time as some of the serious achievers who were overly dedicated, hard
working and committed teachers. They were all nationals and came from all the regions of the
country. The few that I can easily recall included, the head Master whose name was Mr Morgan who
hailed from Manus. From the Gulf Province, I remmebered well Tore Malala. He taugth my class in
grades three and four and was a close family friend. Mr Chris Longon from New Ireland was my
grade five and six teacher. We had local teachers too but the majority of them, at least in my time
were from outside of Simbu, particularly from the Coastal region. This may have been one of the key
factors that helped produced outputs that went on to become prominent people and statesmen that
graced the country and have served or are doing so with distinction in many capacities.

Gon School still Shines

Some of these prominent individuals that immediately come to mind are John Pundari, Daniel
Korimbau, Dr Musi Sau, John Tara, Tolly Tara, Kelly Naru, Stanley Aplhonse, Dr Peter Kora,Tangil
Okuk and the list goes on. Interestingly, by looking carefully at these few randomly picked names, it
goes far enough to make the point that Gon was truly a multi ethnic town school that educated and
nutured Papua New Guineans from different cultural backgrounds for national roles. My words can
not fully capture and express their personal and public achievements in their own rights but a small
mention of them to support my point is perhaps, worth it.

John Pundari who hails from Enga Province and had been serving as member for Ambum/Kompiam
in Parlaiment for 15 years, was a young innocent boy running up and down between Gon school and
the Kundiawa Police barracks between 1978 and 1980. I still remebered how we played marbles and
he was a true winner who could crack our marbles with his solid shots. Little did we know he was
destined to be a national leader. He had become someone of invaluable service to his people and
the nation. From the same Province and in the same grade with John was another character who
rose to prominence in the media fraternity and at one stage headed the National Daily newspaper as
Chief Editor was Daniel Korimbao. Typical of Engans who truely loved their Engalish, both these
young boys were a force in the Gon school grounds moving about together and keeping their tribal
tie alive.

Daniel’s exceptional ability to comprehend issues and critically analyse and present them to the PNG
public brought him into the corridors of politics and closer to power players, earning him jobs such
as media advisor or consultant to some of our prominent leaders. Recently, working with Peter
Oneill, Daniel had been a pivotal agent in presenting and shaping the views of Papua New Guineans
to appreciate the Prime Minister’s brand of leadership and accept him as a sincere achiever who had
concerns of people at heart. In the typical PNG political evenvronment that is often riddled with
speculations, allegations and controversies, one could not simply ignore the intensity of pressure
that comes with duties such as his, but perception management which is a critical part of political
governance in this country had to be smartly conditoned and was left in the hands people like Daniel
who are best at it. Years back then at Gon school, the two Engan boys, John and Daniel simply
looked too ordinary like most of us, and we were all too young to appreciate how Gon was
conditioning us.

Both, John and Daniel were a year behind me and their group included Tangil Okuk. He was a local
boy. Tangil hailed from the Kameneku tribe whose village is located along the Gambagogl range,
about an 80 degrees elevation from its base where the school sits. I reckoned he was never steady at
Gon school because as a son of a high profile politician and a business man, Tangil moved between
Port Moresby and Kundiawa. He went onto become a pilot and later ran his own businesses until his
shocking and untimely passing in July 2016. He died young in his mid forties about the time he was
setting his path for politics like Sir Iambakey Okuk, his dad. He had made number of attempts in
contesting several national elections in both Simbu and in Eastern Highlands. He was eligible to
contest in Eastern Highlands Province because of his maternal relationship. His mum, Lady Karina
hailed from Bena just outside of Goroka. Tangil surely had a taste to his character and personality
that drew his own followers and made him a leader in his own right.

We were followed couple of years behind by young lads in the likes of Peter Kora and Stanely
Alphonse. Kora and alphonse from Dom and Kundiawa respectively started school at Gon about
1977 and they were close buddies with my young brother Mowai. Nawavo had then enrolled Mowai
with the name Robert in 1977. Again Papa Lamato, the pioneer Lufian in Kundiawa who conitnued to
impact our life in significant ways was responsible for the new name. He had justified it with a view
at that point in time that the name would represent the Lufian generation of the new era. By the
time I left Gon in 1979, they were doing their grade three. They caught up with me again at high
school as I was completing grade ten at Kerowagi High School. At this point in 1983, I had moved up
the ladder in my leadership role to that of the School head boy when they started their grade seven.
The next time I saw Peter Kora was at the University of Papua New Guinea when he was accepted to
take up bachelor of Arts degree in Economics. I was just completing my final year in the field of
Political science. He then went on to attain his Masters and Phd at a University in Australia while
serving in the Department of National Planning. When he returned from studies, he was elevated to
the position of Secretary for the Department of National Planning.

I lost track a bit on Stanely Alphonse but occasionally saw him at our Sigarap market, our common
hang out location during school breaks. I guess he was over shadowed by the presence of bigger
boys in our locality and he remained with his peers. Many years later, he shocked me with his
emergence as the head of a Coroporate body, years after he had graduated from the University of
Technology. He had attained his masters in accounting and was serving the PNG Ports Corporation as
Corporate affairs manager until his elevation to the post of CEO. Prior to that he had served as a
senior manager in ICCC and also with Coppers & Lybrant, a high profile acounting firm. I admire his
level of intelligence and his ability to articulate corporate matters without difficulty makes him stand
out among the new class of hydrid national managers who are well placed to take the nation to the
next level.

From Gon School, John Tara who hails from Mindik in the Finschafen District of Morobe Province,
went onto Kerowagi High school and ended up with the PNG Correctional Service Institution as an
Officer. From Inspector, he climbed to the position of Deputy Commissioner operations and although
tipped for the number one position in the service, he got displaced through political interference, a
common phenomenon which is highly criticised in the PNG public service system. He left the service
disappointed but had done the hard yards climbing the system’s ladder and making a mark as a
competent officer and a faithful servant of the state.

Dr Musi Sau and Kelly Naru who are both of Mixed parenatge of Simbu and Morobe attended Gon
School years after John Tara but perhaps two years apart from each other. Musi went on and
completed Kerowagi High school before he got accepted to do Preliminary year(PY) and Science
foundation at UPNG. He went on to the Taurama Medical School campus and studied to become a
medical doctor. He served as a medical practioner for many years and featured prominently in the
Morobe Province in his service. He made a switch from the medical field to advisory role in politics
when he took up a position as principal advisor to Minister Ben Micah in the Oneill/Dion government
after the 2012 general election. The lenght of time he worked with Ben Micah proved his services
were worthy and appreciated. His switch to serve leaders in politics proved his capability to
withstand challenging tasks and deliver with deligence.

Kelly Naru has had the opportunity to serve his first term as Governor of the Morobe Province after
successfully unseating a long serving Governor in Luther Wenge in the 2012 national election. He did
his high school at Kerowagi after Gon school and went on directly to UPNG to do his PY in Arts. He
then chose Law school and eventually graduated as a lawyer. He practiced law in government and
corporate organisations for many years until he switched to his own private practice. He became
prominent in his delivery as a private lawyer and grew his firm to a level of public acceptance and
respect. He also became very popular with his sincere donations to churches, particularly his own
Lutheran Church. He gave willingly and freely for the spread of the Good News, which he often
emphasied was the core goal of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of PNG (ELCPNG). His good heart
was rewarded with his election as the Governor of Morobe Province, the stronghold of the Lutheran
Church. He proved to be a wise and an intellectual leader grounded in the knowledge of Law and the
National Constitution on which the nation of PNG is rooted. He demonstrated a unique approach to
politics and his touch with the common people signified a sustained leadership for his people. His
profile and reputation as a lawyer marks him out as someone whose views could impact policies and
legislations. That has been noticed and will continue whether in office as MP or an ordinary citisen.

Tolly Tara and I have nurtured our relationship from the time we both were in pre-school in 1973
and we have stayed stuck to each other to this very day. It developed from been pre school friends
to class mate peers at Gon school . To this day, a very solidly knitted tie holds the Lafanamas and the
Taras in a union that has made us inseperable. They hailed from Mindik area in Finschafen and we
came to live in Kundiawa from Lufa in the Eastern Highlands Province but we have overcomed all the
barriers to build a formiable and trusting relationship which had been very mutual. Tolly has become
a professional who is highly sought after both nationally and internationally in the mining sector. He
now lives with his family in Australia as a professional export working at a world reknown mine in
Perth called Kluggara.

Tolly was one of the core members in our class that completed his full six years at Gon school. We
went to Kerowagi high school together and after grade 10, he went on to Aiyura National High
School in the Eastern Highlands Province. He was accepted to do civil engineering at the University
of Technology in Lae after grade 12 but left a year later to take up mining geology at UPNG. After
graduating from UPNG as a geologist, he began his first work at Pogera gold mine as an exploration
geologist. Since then, he had moved around the country between different companies and mines,
big and small, exploration or mining, serving them with total dedication and commitment to his
project tasks and assignments. Before he took the offer in Australia, he had been working with Ok
Tedi and he was offered a big promotion to the position of Mine Manager but after discussing with
family members, he decided Australia was the best option. He has now been working in Perth for
over five years in a senior position and has no plans to return to PNG quickly. Infact, he revealed to
me once that he had plans to take up PR in Australia. His colleagues look up to him for leadership in
their field of work and has summoned professional respect to his name in the industry. In the family
network, we accord him the respect he deserves and allow him to operate free from the many
pressures that are too common in PNG.

You could put Tolly on the list of brain drains to PNG when individuals like him and many others
could be serving their own nation. Some issues that concerns them are complex but perhaps the
issue of widened disparity in remuneration between them and their overseas colleagues has
continued to be the hurdle, something the state had not yet felt the urgency to address.
Professionals like Tolly have a better package in Australia and for him to return, his package here had
to match that or better. Such had been the sentiment from many PNG professionals working abroad.
However, for us in the family, Tolly has been our pride working overseas.

The list could go on and no but really the point had been made. Kundiawa truly was a government
center that held and hosted the government servants who came from all over the country to serve
in their roles with complete dedication. The free riders had no problems in benefitting from the
opportunities. The system fostered by the colonial administration of moving public servants around
in a way bred nationalism. It motivated our people to believe too that they can live and work
toegther and all the Children that moved about with their parents marked the start of the next
generation of educated Papua New Guineans, a significant milestone for nationhood. The Gon
Primary school and its story stands out as a case in point proving that schools such as that too in
other government centers around the country played a significant and pivotal role in nurturing a
generation of people that would face mamoth challenges in molding and shaping an independent
state.

PNG had just celebrated its 41st aniversary of Independence and that in itself is a statement of
achievement and manifestation of capability, confidence and courage by that generation of children
like us going to school in 1975 or immediately before and after it. The leaders who delivered
speeches in the 2016 annivesary were not the same ones that spoke of their dreams in 1975 or
those that led the country for the 25 years that followed. Those in leadership roles now, whether in
politics, business or the state bereaucracy really were the ones in those formative years watching,
thinking and wishing they were the ones in those roles. Schools like Gon Primary school and
Kerowagi High school made their contribution through moulding and guiding young minds for
leadership roles then and will continue to play their part. The future will of course have its own form
and relevance but todays benefits were achieved through sheer harwork and dedication in those
trying years after PNG declared its independence.

It was simpler for the educated parents to explain what was happening to their children then but for
me, Nawavo’s appreciation of the notion of self government and independence was very vague. He
was pretty much limited in his understanding and explanation and at times made reference to PNG
having its own money and own government. I believe he could feel the wave of change sweeping
through because he hears it in discussions and on the radio as well as seeing physical events. He
couldnt do what those who could read and write did and that made him more determined to keep
me in school and he did keep his goal and focus in sight. I had just completed the Pre school in 1973
and though it was a feeder school to the Kundiawa international school and it was normal to
advance further to the prep classes, Nawavo had decided against it as it would have been impossible
for him to afford the hefty school fees. I believe he was satisfied that I had got the basics from been
in a learning environment for someone like me that came straight from the village to a modern
school. He would have been really happy when I got accepted at Gon to do my grade one in 1974.
I was surely beginning to attend school at Gon but the two environments were really not the same.
Not so long ago, I was in a class in which the distinction was between us the national and the
expatriate children. Here in my class at Gon, I was among my own kind and the obvious distinction
was between the children of urban working class people and those of us from the settlements and
local villages. The opportunity to learn was there for all of us without any degree of descrimination
but in my little mind, I still carried that element of inferiority sentiments and reclusive attitude. It
was easy to do that as I only had to look at myself against the others that lived in modern town
homes and attended school. They were always clean and neat with new clothes, wore shoes and
sandles and always had their lunch packs or brought money to buy something if they didnt bring
their lunch. Both the boys and girls in this category stood out prominent in the class and the teacher
would relate to them quiet easily. What more could be said about this? The school was meant to
cater for the children of the working people of the town and although the local village children had
priority too, we appeared to carry similar social status and perhaps our predicaments were about
the same.

And so instinctively, those of us in this category were driven more by the survival instinct to learn
hard and do better. Somehow when that played out, those of us who pushed ourselves harder to be
competitive to do better in our tests and class participation won respect from our well groomed
mates. That was how friendship and sharing among individuals in the class developed and grew and
as we got older in the school, our collaboration, I think, became more driven by academic work and
tasks rather then our social status. I was not a very high academic achiever but I believed I did
enough to gain the respect of my classmates in as early as grade two and three. There was nothing
peculiar or interesting about me among my class mates but my conducts were noticeable in some
ways to my teachers and class mates. Whatever attributes that marked me out also tossed me into
roles of responsibilities in as early as grade three. The role I receieved as class captain in 1976
became somewhat like a name tag or trade mark which I carried consecutively every year until 1985
when I completed grade twelve (12) at Keravat National High School in East New Britain with the
role as the School Captain.

Nawavo was not much of a talker and in his quiteness, he uttered few words and made sure I
adhered to his directions. These were pretty simple. Never to miss school and be obedient at all
times. These two summed up his desire and dreams. He could never allow me to stay home even
when I was in great pain or sick. Two incidents stick out very distinct to describe the seriousness of
his belief in modern education.

The first one in 1977 involved an accident I had when a Socceer goal mouth frame tipped and fell on
my ankle. I was playing the monkey bar swing game on the front bar with my friends at the Dickson’s
field in Kundiawa when it tipped because too many of us were hanging on it in one given moment.
Everyone jumped off in time before it hit the ground but I wasnt lucky. I fell on my jump and as the
hollowed steel frame came tipping down, I was too slow in pulling away my left leg in that very
second. My leg was nailed to the ground from the ankle that instant. My friends were worried and
scared at first, but managed to pull my leg out and it seemed I had smashed and disslocated my
ankle. I was just laying down and I couldnt move an inch. I didnt know how to let Nawavo know but
somehow message got out to uncle Lakaiasivo, also called Petrus, Nawavo’s young brother couple of
hours later. He came by and carried me on his back all the way to the Hospital. It was a Friday
afternoon and I was just lucky the next two days were not school days. Instead of feeling sorry for
me, Nawavo only had scoulds on his lips and blamed me for bringing disaster on my body. He helped
me nursed the big lump on my ankle and the swell, both on the left foot but by Sunday afternoon, he
had cut out a walking pole to support me leap-walk to school. For couple of weeks, I walked at snail
pace in great pain from the Malaria area to Gon school, a fair distance, always ending up an hour
late in class in that period.
The next incident happened when I was out in my home village in Hegetoru 2 on a school vacation at
the end of 1978. It was a long school holiday and as usual, Nawavo send me home to the village. One
afternoon I came to stay with uncle Lokono at Houlivi, after having spend a week with granny Hasuta
at Naora-uatai. We happened to be walking through his garden one afternoon when a big garden rat
ran passed us. Both of us saw it at the same time so we gave it a chase. I spotted an old tanget tree
up on a small slope with young branches and I wanted one of it to hit the rat. I pulled at one of the
branches which came off but I lost balance and fell right into a muddy patch from my right side. To
gain balance and find support on the ground, I stretched my right arm out as I fell but it went right
through the muddy ground and I immediately heard a loud crack in my arm as my body weight went
down on it. I was yelling in pain as I held my muddy wrist up from the elbow with my left hand. My
Uncle was shocked and quickly supported me to the house. When he had washed my hand clean, we
could see that fractures had occured just below the wrist. He was worried my partenal uncles would
come and cause him trouble if he didnt tell them so he immediately send word to them. When they
gathered, he told them what had happened and immediately slaughtered a pig. He told them his
plans to fly me to Goroka and get treatment there. He didnt want to waste any time and put me in
pain. Immdediately the next morning before dawn, we had to walk all the way to Agotu, our
Lutheran mission station to catch the mission plane to Goroka. After three hours of walking and a
wait for another two hours, an one engine mission plane landed and we both went on it to Goroka.
At the airport, an ambulance waited and took me straight to the hospital. I walked out of the theatre
couple hours later with a cast over my arm and a sling to rest the arm. I was released from the
hospital after a week.

Nawavo quickly came to Goroka upon hearing about what had happened and I remembered how he
didnt look happy. It was clear on his face and in his voice but accepted Uncle Lotono’s explanation
and took me back to Kundiawa. The cast was still on when the school year of 1979 came by. I would
be beginning grade six, my final year at Gon school. It was not possible to write as the cast covered
my wrist as well but Nawavo forced me to attend school and just sit in the classes and be part of the
classroom activities. I was a big boy then and felt a little embarassed but I had no choice and did
what I could to write using either my left fingers or by slipping the pen above the cast between my
pointer and longman fingers to write something. Somehow I managed in the classsroom until the
cast was finally removed. The result of the healing on my arm was awkward. I could never turn my
right palm face upwards. That I have carried as a permanent disability but no one notices it.

I could never forget these two accidents which tested my father’s purpose for me and proved he was
truly a determined man in his simplicity.

I believe I didnt disappoint him too much during my six years at Gon Primary School. There were
moments and instances in my performances that gave him smiles and satisfaction throughout the six
years and further on. Nawavo desired me to attend school every school day and learn to read and
write in english and speak the whiteman’s language and get a job in office. The public perception in
those days was that people who worked in offices and walked out of them every afternoon were in
the top list of admirable people. They drew attention and respect very quickly and they were
regarded as bosses who employed people and got good pays, even if they were just clerks. Nawavo
shared this view too and often repeatedly made statements to that effect in his encouragements for
me to take school very seriously. I indeed gave my best attention and stayed focused and obedient
to all instructions and activities in school from my teachers. There was only one incident in my
recollection that had me and other boys canned five times each in front of the school assembly. My
class mates were reported for teasing and making one of our class girls cry during a community
coffee picking outing not too far from the school and I was included because as the class captain I
didnt prevent the situation, instead joined. However, throughout my primary school years, I
reckoned my record was that of a good and persevering student, a little smart with sufficient
intelligence to succeed. Between grades three and six, I occasionally collected prises at the end of
year ceremonies for doing well in certain subjects and that often lightened up Nawavo’s face with
pride, but of course for me that was sufficient to convince him that I was doing well and capable of
making it to High school.

I developed a trusting relationship with all my teachers from grades one to six and accorded them
every respect in the best way I understood that to be but there was only one that drew me more
close to him. Tore Malala from the Gulf Province served a long time at the school but only taught my
class in grades four and five. I recalled that because as I was the class captain, he initially used me as
an aid to collect stuff from store rooms, take teaching aids to other staff members and pick up
something from them for his use or ring the school bell when he was on duty. But soon, that
extended to helping him carry his books and students work books for marking to his house. He
would occasionally ask me after school or during work periods to pump water to the tank on the top
of his house with the mannual pump for his use. When ever I did that, he always had something for
me to eat in the house before going home. He was a single man than and it seemed there wasnt
much in his house but entering it was a privilege for me. All these, I reported to Nawavo of the kind
of attention I was getting from Mr Malala.

Soon Nawavo started talking to him after I had introduced him. They went from casual meet and
chats in town to going to the Kundiawa pub for some beer and eventually my teacher got invites to
come to our humble home. I didnt feel comfortable getting him in our home setting but as adult
men, they had developed a mutual friendship which I didnt understand. This started in 1977 and by
the following year, Mr Malala had brought his Kerema wife to the school. Our friendship with them
as family friends grew and we visited them from time to time in their home with garden food and on
few occasions invited them to our house whenever we had a family occasion.

But, all the time Mr Tore never forgot that he was a teacher and I was his student. He was conscious
of other students and parents’ eyes and Nawavo was made aware of that so the friendship was
maintained at distance. I have always kept Mr Malala in my mind as I moved further away from the
Gon school years and wondered what it was about me that drew his interest. Perhaps, I was class
captain in his two years of been our class teacher and naturally he could call on me first for help or
was there somethng else he saw in me? That would probably be summed up in what he often told
Nawavo. It was that I was a good student and that he should have his money ready for my high
school fees. Many years later in 1994 during my activist years, I bumped into Mrs Tore at Gerehu,
stage two, the biggest suburb in Port moresby. The heavy tears she shed told me she had a sad news
to tell me. In her emotions, she found the courage to tell me that my Teacher, Mr Tore had passed
on and she had been living alone with the children. Whenever she saw me in the area, she would
often ask to take me to Kerema for a break but I have never found the opportunity to visit the home
of the teacher who was fond of me.

Man of Faith Chapter 10

Ne e Nawa Anotu e Naheme isaotanio,

A e Ayavu wanamo, onu yao Maha yao, meve halutawe maglai
Aesu Agla ia migliva Jesu Kristo.
Ave la-ana ia Migliva Maria,Trimaglo Wanamo anowavoina ome ataiono Amusa miliate Jesu asai
Pirapirato heiwata, Jesu iuya atame maglipo yalai haono irai.
Ome ataono huvi awuiva una lagle yao ia yao miate, irara wanayao asuwe mili.
Etati uluiwa, awa Anotu ayavu wanamosu hawe ayatai ime migli.
Etati Havunema, irara wana yao awoi migli uwa wana yao glu ahuome etamaome glatanema e
awunema e oiye...........

I still remember to this very day this prayer of faith ‘ the Apostel’s Creed’ Nawavo recited for us to
memorise and remember in our own language. It was the prayer of faith in our great God that begins
in english this way..’ I believe in God the father almighty, maker of heaven and earth. I believe in
Jesus Christ his only son, our Lord .......... and in tok pidgin, ‘ Mi bilip long God Papa, em igat olgeta
strong, em i as bilong heven na graun olgeta, em yet i putim. Mi bilip long Jisas Kraist, em wanpla
tasol i pikinini tru bilong God, em i bikpla bilong yumi......This prayer of faith is indeed the basis of
the christian faith, and in our church, the founder Martin Luther ensured that the Lutheran Church
grew on the foundation of this prayer, which really is the expression of faith. So powerful was this
prayer’s influence that our reverence and fear of God in the family remained solid and I couldnt have
imagined our family adventures and achievements without a prayerful life championed by the head
of our family.

I had observed early in my life that this man I called Nawavo was seriously God fearing. He made
God the pillar and beacon of his simple and humble life. He didnt make big shows of his faith but he
was always talking to his God in his early morning prayers and before we ate at dinner times. We
would have devotions and sing songs of praise in our own language. That became the order of our
humble life in Kundiawa, a constant reminder of our roots and God’s Love and care. Nawavo’s
commitment to his faith was such that for us children, me and Mowai, and later on Petrus, like our
discipline in going to school, he made sure we went through all the stages required by the church for
us to become full members of the Lutheran faith. I took it for granted then but I have now realised
the worth and benefits of such discipline and order. I couldnt have been where I am now without
God, together with the order and routine he imposed. That approach had been the primary
difference between Nawavo and the others from his tribe. He found confidence and courage,
comfort and success in his humble life through the faith he expressed in his God. His God had
become our God and shall without doubt continue in the lafanama Generations into the future well
after Nawavo had been recalled by his maker. I reckon the gift of developing us to grow close to God
remains the best gift of all and we could not have wished for anything better from him.

I became a full member of the Lutheran denomination in 1978, the year in which I was doing grade
five. That was signified by a confirmation blessing and my first Holy Communion in front of my
congrigation after passing the required months of attending the confirmation class. Donny, a close
relative who had come to Kundiawa from the village to do his grade six at the same school was also a
party to this class of confirmants. He had been attending Agotu Primary school in Lufa but faced with
problems of continuity, he left. When he enrollment at Gon in 1978 to continue, he chose to use
Nawavo’s name as his surname. He was called Donny Lafanama and carried the name on to
Kerowagi high school and into his work life. The criteria of getting selected into confirmation class
was pretty strict. Most of us got recommended for our consistency at Sunday school. I had been
attending Sunday school from preschool days to the time I completed grade four in 1977. That was
when the Sunday school teachers and church elders graduated us to the confirmation classe of 1978
which we faithfully completed. Others that came to enroll for the class went through rigorous checks
to get through.

In these classes, we went through the church Doctrine, the Ten commandments, the Lord’s prayer,
the prayer of Faith (Apostel’s creed), the liturgies of different types of service conducted in the
church including communion, baptism, marriage, deaths, blessings, and then we were taught how to
read and understand the bible from Genesis to revelation, the key bible characters, the difference
between old testament and new testament and of course what the Lutheran church doctrine is
based on which is expressed in our motto: Faith only, Bible only, and Christ only. The tough part for
me was memorising bible texts and reciting then in front of the confirmation class and our pastor. I
recalled that our teacher was Pastor Ombu. He was exceptionally good in the sense that he treated
us with a lot of patience but made sure we understood the key lessons he was expected to impart to
us. The evidence of that to this day is that, I can fully recite the Lord’s prayer and the prayer of faith ,
both in pidgin, English and my mother tongue. As I grew and matured in my faith, I have come to
fully appreciate that these prayers have kept me rooted in the basis of the christian faith, without
which life for me would have been misguided and without purpose.

The Lafanama boys

Initially it was the two of us, myself and Mowai and very late in their life, Ouama and Nawavo found
Petrus who was named after Uncle Petrus or Lakai, his tribal name. There was nothing peculiar
about us as we were just normal kids that happenend to be given an opportunity to have a town life
by a very humble father. Our story would have been completely different if he didnt have the dream
and wisdom to discover Kundiawa. I wouldnt be telling this story because I would have grown up in
the village like all my relatives and not have the literacy and computer skills to write this story and be
known the way I am known today. Nawavo chose Kundiawa because it gave him comfort and the
balance he needed to raise us. He overcame most of the barriers and at times lived through the
most difficult ones to fulfil his dream of giving us education. At that instance in the 1970s, I recall
that life was simple and normal. We had a home, many gardens, always had enough food to eat as
we never went hungry, we went to church and attended school and our father had a casual income
job like many other children’s fathers in town. The quality and complexity experienced at levels
above us was of little significance. In our young mind, life here was wonderful.

For me, starting from the time I came into Kundiawa and began school, town life I saw as a village
boy was overwhelming and exciting. I think my perception at that point in life was that something
awesome was happenning to me in complete contrast to what I saw and experienced at that age
back home. I suppose my conclusion would have been that I had walked into a magical world. Things
I saw around me, ate and used were all new and different. I was in a new world of things that looked
attractive and interesting. I already had an early childhood introduction to village life with my age
peers, such as going small game huntings with our little bows and arrows, following the small creeks
in search of frogs, playing village games with our bigger brothers or following them to their activities,
following our parents to the gardens and imitating our fathers as they work on the fences, cut new
bushes or tilt the soil to help our mothers plant. At times, we would sit in the housemen with our
uncles and grandfathers and listen to their stories or songs. Even in Nawawo’s absence, I had all the
uncles from both sides that took turn in taking care of me.

Mowai saw the sun four years after me and was only about two years old when he arrived in
Kundiawa which meant that he was pretty much a baby and to date has nil recollection of what life
was like in the village. His ideas and views of the village would be limited to those he saw when we
were visiting home during our school holidays. Petrus was really a Kundiawa child and his
attachment to the Hegetoru tribe would be his understanding of our language that he could never
easily speak. His understanding and appreciation of his roots was a result of mum who always spoke
to him in the dialect while everyone around him spoke in pidgin. By the time he came into the circle,
the Lafanama nuclear family of four had extended to a small community that included wifes and
grand children. Petrus grew up in a multicultural extended family so his reconnection to the tribe
only started happening in the later years when he began frequenting Hegetoru and at times stayed
longer in the village. However, we never departed from the fact that both our parents were full
blooded Lufians and we were proud of being such in a foreign land. I was never ashamed of my
identity. I spoke freely and opening in my language with my parents and we would occasionally sing
in our vernacular whenever we were asked to do so at our church. The Enduka tribe that Nawavo
had long associated with knowingly kept us in their loop whilst at the same time accepting us the
boys as part of them.

Like in all common families, someone would always be the favarite of the father. In ours, that
happened to be Mowai. Apparently he got all the attention from Nawavo at an early age. I kind of
never really regarded that as an issue because there were only two of us then and whenever he got
something, I at least got my share. His might be bigger than mine or larger than mine and more in
value than mine in the case of money but he was the little one wanting bit more attention and could
easily demand it so I merely accepted it. He could do things wrong and escaped purnishment while I
sometimes copped it for both of us. Nawavo would often shfit his anger towards me and bark
harshly at me when we both disobeyed an instruction or did something wrong. He had a unique style
of expressing his anger. He would stare very hard and firm at us with his eye balls popping out and
scoulding us in a mumbling way for the wrongs and at times made us run with a stick in his hand.
However he seldomely used heavy beating as his style of purnishment. I could never recall one.

There were times when both parents would shout harshly at me and told me to go back home to
Lufa to my parents, refering to my grand parents. There were moments when I thought I was never
really their child. But it was just the way they released their anger and at that point I would really cry
my head out and refuse to come back into the house. In any case, my mother always came to my
defense if she felt Nawavo went too far. And why not. I was her first and she made sure I got my
share of things when Mowai got it all from Nawavo. These were not in big things but because we
were the only two then, Ouama had to play the balancing part to give me her attention when Mowai
had it all from Nawavo. In the nutshell, the favoritism thing was not a big deal for me. He was my
only brother than and I couldnt trade my liking of him for anything else until Petrus came along and
as the big brother, I had to extend that special attention to him as well. We would have loved to
have a sister but we were never blessed with one and the three of us would never experience what
it means to have a sister. We are now grown men and each have daughters of our own but still it did
not fill the vacuum of not having a sister.

In a natural way there was greater sense of order and respect in the way we lived our life in this
simple humble family. There were times when our parents had arguments but I could not recall a
time when those arguments reached a level of physical confrontation during all my years with them.
Some times it would reach a point when Nawavo would rush towards Ouama but abruptly halt in
front of her and would either only push her or show his fist at her with strong words and then walk
back to his original position or away from the house and into the gardens. Mum’s voice during such
situations were always calm and she chose her arguments and responses carefully and in ways that
did not aggrevate the situation and at the same time keeping respect in her man. This was pretty
much the way they ran their life and ours as their children was moulded and shaped in that
environment.

As I could recall now and reflect on their life, it is reasonable for me to conclude that mum was really
the neutralising factor. Nawavo often displayed an attribute of short temperedness but whenever
the rage in him found opportunities to escape in violent forms, Ouama had an attitude to it all that
diffuses it. She never raises her voice and looked into her man’s face. She would always look away
and talk or look to the ground and respond. Her approach provided no excuse at all for Nawavo to
be violent. Such I believed paved and shaped the character of our small family unit in the toughness
of our settlement life.

I also could not recall a time when Mowai and I fought over something or argued bitterly. We grew
up loving each, shared happily and discussed things openly without hidden agendas. In all areas we
kept respect in the values and principles of the family unit and our church life as a family was
consistent. When Petrus came along, he naturally adapted to the family tradition. However, we all
had different time periods and peer groups that impacted our future directions in certain ways on
our respective life. Due to those other pull factors on our individual lifes, there had been instances
when we gave some hard times to our parents such as Mowai deviating from academic focus to peer
pressure activities especially at high school and Petrus not properly completing his high school. And
for me, I started my family life immediately after grade 12. But, all these never disrupted our family
cohesion. That remained the core strenght of our foundation and helped paved way for all the
future opportunities, including our marriages and work life that each one of us have respectively
encountered. And to date, our father Nawavo remains the greatest mentor of our life.

Big Lessons at KHS Chapter 11

KHS was a label we all prided ourselves with when we were accepted to do our high school. We
came from all over the Simbu Province to attend this school. KHS was the abbreviation for Kerowagi
High School and to be accepted into a premier School in the Province, one of the two with the other
been Kondiu or Rosary high school was a big thing for many caring parents at that time. The other
high schools were Chuave, Gumine, Mt Wilhem and Muaina but were still catching up with the
reputation of the two most established schools. The year was 1980 and my name was among the list
of many others selected for Kerowagi high school which was pinned on the notice board at the
Education office in Kundiawa.

This news had a huge impression on my mum and dad. In a way, it must have brought home an
exceptional sense of achievement which I could not easily tell but was obvious in their mood and
body language. It would have been phenomenal as it was the first for them and one of a kind for
their tribe, something they had innocently worked hard and long to see as a blessing or reward. For
Nawavo, it would have been the first sign of prove that his wild mission into Simbu and his decision
to permanently settle there to raise his family was showing result and he would have breathed a sigh
of relief. The news too, I am sure would have made him recall the wrods froom my Gulf teacher who
once told him about saving money for high school fees. That then was his first hurdle to secure my
space at KHS. It wasnt much of an ask from parents in today’s terms, but substantial enough to
pressure village parents and those in the category of Nawavo with a basic wage employment in the
town.

I reckoned it still may not have been easy for him to readily have the required school fees including
the extra money he had to come up with for the essentials that I needed to take along to this
boarding school, but when it was time to begin the school year of 1980 as a grade seven (7) student,
Nawavo showed he was ready. I often noticed strains on his face when it came to money matters
because he always had to struggle to raise it and this time was no different. I remembered clearly
few happenings that proved he had issues with my going to high school. The first thing he did after
hearing the news of my selection, was to break the news to his tribe and clan members back in Lufa.
It seemed he had two reasons for this. First, he wanted to share the excitement of his achievement
with them, and secondly for them to take ownership and some responsibility as was naturally
supposed to be the case in the tribal way. It was a honor he particularly expected from his clan
members but their lack of response showed they either did not understand the importance of
education or thought he could manage it as they were too far from Kundiawa. Custom did not allow
him to freely call on my maternal relatives but I believed he expected that the news would have
come to their ears too and have them play their part. However, it was the same. Papa Steven, one of
Nawavo’s younger brothers was the only one that showed face in Kundiawa as a response to his call.
Whatever his part was, Papa Steven did well and his presence in such critical moments was
heartening for Nawavo in a significant way and proved our connection to the tribe was alive.
As I think more about that episode and wondered why Nawavo made it a point to alert his tribe, it
was obvious he was merely doing his duty as a tribal member and having achieved a milestone, he
wanted them to appreciate and get involved in his quest to see something different for the tribe. It
appeared they were still very traditional in all sense and more concerned with customary matters
and I guess he couldnt blame them more as their remoteness in Lufa kept them from seeing and
appreciaitng the big picture, the changing landscape beyong their noses.

For Nawavo, I was his big picture. Whatever it was that he saw, liked and desired so much in the
whitemans ways was all encompassed in education. He had forced me into pre-school and ensured I
never missed any school day in my six years at Gon School. Now the news that he had expected after
my grade six examination had been made official on the Education notice board and even been
announced on Radio Simbu education program for all concerned parents. There were further
toksaves that followed the main one with details of school fee amounts and other requirements
expected of new boarding students. Those other requirements meant extra money which Nawavo
had to find on top of the main fee. That would also include a bit of money he would have to leave
behind with me for essentials I may need. And he knew this was necessary because I was leaving
home for the first time to a new and distant envionment and there might be situations that may
require getting home quickly. For these extras, Nawavo had to reach further into his own pocket and
he was on his own. The small community that we lived in would not come to his aid because two
other families were in the same boat with similar situations. Uvevira, my best friend and tribesman
had also beeen selected to the same school. The other was Foggy Kobege, also a class mate from
Mengino in Lufa who came only in 1979 to do his grade six at Gon school had also passed. This put
three of us from the same area in Lufa going to the same high school and all our individual families
were presssed to do their own bit to raise the money before enrolment. When the time came for
me to go to school, Nawavo was more than ready. I bet he also managed to contribute to Uvevira’s
fees but by then, I was more excited about starting high school than about the money matters.

Traveling further west following the Okuk Highway from my comfort setting in Kundiawa was going
to be the first time ever for me. The joy and exhalation of having succeeded to now go on to a bigger
school was overwhelming but my nervousness was equally strong. I couldnt easily cope with all the
imagination running through my mind about how to handle the new encounters. However, I would
have settled in my thoughts with the view that I wasnt attending this school alone. From my School,
there were a handful of us. My preschool mate Tolly Tara heads the list with William Mondo, David
Peter, Uvevira Mark, Foggy Kobege,Jimmy Tenefi, Monica Peter, Betty Teine and Wagi Kiage, all year
marked to begin our high school education at KHS in the start of 1980. I was further comforted by
the fact that on the first day, like all new intakes, our parents would be taking us with our boarding
baggage for registration and help settle us in our new school. A privilige I had as a bonus to my
comfort also was an arrangement our parents had put in place for me and Tolly to travel together on
his father’s work vehicle.

Nawavo and mum had been up very early that morning to make sure all my stuff were neatly packed
for us to walk over from our settlement home to the Tara residence in town. I remembered
observing mum showing a lot of emotions. She couldnt stop the free flow of tears from her eyes as
she moved about packing my things. She was heart broken to see me move out of her domain and
although she never fully understood it, she would have figured out that I was starting out on a new
path to face life alone, to survive and succeed in it. It was Nawavo who cautioned her once or twice
to control her tears as that might be a sign of bad omen. By 8.00 am of that morning, we had joined
the Taras on the back of a yellow utility works and supply landcruiser and cruising the highway to our
new school. As we drove on, the adults with us pointed out the names of popular locations that
were new to me. We passed through Anigl and then Wandi greeted by the grave of once popular
Simbu leader Kondom Agaundo, crossed Mindima and then began a descend into Migendi and after
Kanambau, we went down in to a valley created by the drop from the cool Gena range meeting the
Korenigl river, then we parted the main Highway turning north immediately after the bridge. That
turn took us passed a Cathoic mission establishment called Surenigl and straight into the Kerowgi
township where KHS was situated.

KHS was started in 1960s on a superb landscape between the Siku and the Pagau tribes of Kerowagi
District, and is surrounded from the east and north by its beautiful mountain scenary. The landscape
immediately connects with the southwest leading into the bountiful Whagi valley plains which now
makes up the recently created Province of Jiwaka. The choice of Land for this Provincial High School
would be something to comment on as the decision on its location manifests leadership with
wisdom, shows vision and regard to bring change in society. Taking into account that point in time
when western ideology was still allien to the majority of people, agreeing to an idea of school on a
prime location must have taken extra-ordinary insigth and a desire to see it happen. This was
especially so when not too far from the high school boundary, almost a kilometer apart to the
southern end, was the Catholic Church that had established itself on a substantial portion of suitable
flat land called surenigl. The Siku people I think embraced change faster than many other tribal
people as they willingly gave part of their land ealier to the mission, then to the state and extended
the same gesture for KHS. The irony of all this was that these establishments took up a good part of
their arable land but they seemed pretty happy with that back then. This act may perhaps remain
one classic example of a tribal people’s willingness to see change and their commitment to common
good.

As we entered the Kerowagi town border passing the Siku villages, it was abvious the school campus
boundary began immediately there. That was evident in the school fence that began there and ran
adjacent to the road along the western side and ran passed what appeared to be the central school
gate located opposite the commercial section of the small town and went right around towards the
northern gate direction and then ran down into the river called Tem Nigl. The river path marked out
the campus boundary with the Pagau tribal land and the school from the western end. The sight of
such a big campus with buildings of many types and shapes was enough to frighten me to complete
silence. We entered from the northern end gate and we were immediately greeted by its neat and
beautiful landscaped flower gardens along the road and around houses that looked liked teachers
residences. As we travelled in further, my eyes caught sight of two double decked buildings to my
right on the western side of the road that looked like living quarters. The movement of girls in and
out of the buildings indicated these were girls dormitories. We pulled up at a car park infront of a
building that was clearly marked out as school office. To the left of the administration block and
further down, the area was completly crowded with classrooms, with three central double story
buildings of four classrooms each and all these buildings were neatly marked out and landscaped
with impressive flower beds.

The environment did actually give me an impression that I had made it to a big school, a new level
and a step up from my school of the past six years. I had just landed in a place that was going to be
my new home for the next four years. The only hurdle in this period would be the grade eight
selection that I had to pass. I couldnt tell what might have been running through my parents mind
but they looked satisfied as they seemed impressed with the school campus and their idea of a big
school was matched by the campus setting. Registration and fee payment was quick as the duty
teachers simply matched our offer letter together with our grade six certificates to their name list
and ticked us off and checked us into our allocated dormitories already marked on their list. We
were told to find a dormitory named Kekemba towards the south western end of the campus and
select a cubicle of normally four students. We were ushered there by a senior student with our
parents on the vehicle with our laguage. We passed other dormitories along the way with labels
Siune, Mengagl and reached the one that was to be our house. At the very end after the kekemba
dorms, was the last double dormitory called Baundo which accomodated grade Tens. We learned
immediately that the dormitories were named after all the special birds of paradise in the Kuman
lingua of the Province.

Our two mothers, Nengo and Ouama were a bit particular about our open cubicles and helped tidy
and tie up our curtains at the cubicle entrance and ensured our beds were neatly fixed with the
beddings we each had. I observed they were deliberately slow in the way they did all these. It
seemed they both couldnt control theirs emotions knowing they would be returning back to
Kundiawa leaving behind their two boys. Tolly’s dad, Tara was known for his strictness with time and
as he had to return to work site, he had to hurry the two women to finish up and get back on the
vehicle. Nawavo as usual was particularly quiet and observed from distance but showed a settled
and satisfied face. He seemed proud of this milestone but in his silence he may have been thinking
about how he was going to handle the next three years ahead as this was just the beginning of the
turn. Soon our parents were gone and Tolly and I were alone on the KHS campus to face the reality
of a boarding school life. That was how the next chapter in my life began.

My arrival, first night and the first day at KHS, as I could recall were peculiarly odd and little strange
in that I was full of anxiety which probably came from a combination of apprehension, continued
nervousness and fear. Such unease would have been a huge problem for students that came as
single individuals from very remote schools in the Province and that was easy to pick out on the
faces of the ones that crossed my path in the first few days. For those of us that came in numbers
from one school such as mine, we found comfort and reassurance in each other. David Peter being a
local from a nearby tribe stumbled in with his laguage a little later in the day so Tolly and I quickly
led him to the third bed in our cublicle. He had lived in Kundiawa because his father worked as a
nurse at Kundiawa general hospital. I didnt understand how the school arranged it the way they did
but pretty soon by evening we discovered that William, Foggy, Uvevira and Jimmy from our school
had also landed in the same dormitory. We were allocated Kekemba 2 with other grade seven
intakes from schools around the Province.

My first home outside of my settlement house, now called a dormitory was designed to have five
cubicles on either side making it a home of almost fourty students with common showers and
toilets. Talking about showers and ceptic toilets, I should admit I was one in common with students
that came to school from remote villages. I was only a town kid in so far as going to a town school
was concerned, but I was one used to washing in drain waters and collecting water in buckets from
water holes or big drums. This was going to be my first night away from a home of pit toilets. Were
these the kind of change Nawavo was thinking about when he wanted me to be in school so much? I
admit I couldnt have possibly cared about such as my young mind was preoccupied with delights in
the new place. As I dwell deeper on my first days in the school campus, I accept more that the
school environment was a miniature model of the larger concept of a modern system that were
becoming a norm throughout the nation. It was designed to condition us into modern people for a
life of service in the introduced system and accept white man’s civilised way of living.

I did take most of the school life for granted but it was a privilige not available to most of my cousins
back in Lufa. That first evening, I felt the joy of a full naked bath under the open shower right from
my head down and sitting on a ceptic or flush toilet without worrying about the spirits in the dark
that night was a new sensation. Even more, responding to the first mess bell was something of a fun
as we giggled at each other on the way to the mess carrying our plates and spoons. We laughed
probably because normally food came to us on the plate at home, but in this system we had to take
the plate to the food. Our mother was the mess. My first impression of food in the KHS mess was
pretty accepting as I was used to the common favorite meal of tinned fish with rice. Most of us
would have been. Our seniors told us that the first meal was typical of first school days but as time
went on, there would be variety in the meals ahead.

Three square meals was somethng new and that was the interesting bit for me. Away from home
and this place was going to feed us three times a day everyday for the whole year and if I went on
for the next three years, it would be the same, I had thought. I simply loved that strict order of
meals. I would miss mums evening meals and roasted kaukau breakfasts with tea or water but now, I
would not be going without lunch every day. As I was enjoying this thought in bed and
comtemplating about what the boarding school life meant for me , I heard a stern and thundering
like voice that almost threw me off bed; ” Lights off now and no more noice of runnning around or
talking, Be up at 7.00am for bath and breakfast at 7.30am, School assembly at 8.00am sharp. Good
night”. That was the voice of the deputy principal Mr Mathias Silas who was the first teacher on
duty. In essence, I had on the very first day and night been introduced to what would be the routine
and practise in this school for the next four years. I sure did not waste time in mastering the system
of doing things as my four years would depend on it. My goal would have been to pass out
successfully at the end of 1983 with a grade ten certificate. Where next from there, my adjustment
and adaptation in this school system was going to determine. But for that first year at least, I had
earned my right to be called a KHS student and that was something to feel good about and one that
gave me self esteem whenever I was back in my Kundiawa town

The first week in KHS was exciting but chaotic and confusing at times. The first day school assembly
started with putting us the new grade sevens into classes. As the teacher responsible called out our
names, we were advised to step away from the crowd of new intakes and moved to an assigned row
of four respective groups that would eventually become our classes. As this was being done, my eyes
attention got drawn to a figure of an adult white male that had just stepped onto the assembly
ground. I hadnt seen one the previous day or heard about expatriate teachers on the campus so
instinctively, my eyes quickly scanned across the assembly area and over the senior students onto
the teachers standing scattered, I caught sight of couple more. I probably wasnt the only one making
the counts as I am sure many other new students would have been attracted by the same curiosity
as me. After the call of the last new student, and when we had all been assigned to the four rows,
our class labels were announced by the teacher organising us. He stepped in front of the first one
and announced, K, the second P, the third H, and the fourth S. I found myself standing in the row
labelled P which meant I was in class 7P. I quickly looked around to see where my buddy Tolly and
the others William, Foggy, Uvevira, David, wagi, Jimmy, Monica and Betty were in the four rows.
Tolly was in the left row before me. He would be in class 7K and in a similar manner all our class
mates, both boys and girls of Gon school were all scattered into the four classes. By this time, it was
clear we were placed in four different classes of grade sevens labelling them KHPS, abbreviating it
for Kerowagi Provincial High School.

For our class of Gon school, this was going to be an entirely new expereince as we had been in a
single grade class that kept us together for six solid years and this big school had now seperated us.
This meant building new friendships but hopefully we could keep our loyalty and as our after high
school life proved, the Gon school budding made us stuck thick and thin and turned us into more
than just class mates. We were brothers truely, especially for us boys. We were bonded in a
brotherhood spirit that kept us togther into our manhood, marriages, and work life right into the
new millenium. But that was how the 1980 intakes for grade seven at KHS was organised to fit us
into classes of almost fourty students each. There would have been 160 of us in this intake and if
similar criteria had been used to bring the previous grade sevens who were at this stage going into
grades eight, nine and ten, the estimated student population in the school year of 1980 would have
been around six hundred to six hundred and fifty students, not excluding the day students.
I still remember at this very first assembly, an interesting exercise to get us understand and sing the
national anthem well and to say the pledge aloud and clear. It was already typed and the stenciled
copies were handed out to the new students. The first assembly, which was particularly long due to
the time given to orgainse the grade sevens into classes, ended with some anouncements after we
had sung the National Anthem. Then we were directed and marched off to our classrooms to meet
first with our class teachers while the senior grades went off straight to begin their classes. The
teacher assigned to class 7P was at hand to march us in a single file to our allocated classroom. We
took the steps of one of the double classrooms in front of the School’s office building and climb to
the top floor and went inside the classroom at the eastern end. Our class patron followed after the
last person in class had stepped in closing the door behind.

I remembered well feeling clumsy and awkward among the new faces and it might have been the
same for the others until our teacher called us to attention. She wrote her name on the black board..
Miss Elisabeth, looking a little shy as I could recall, then she cleared her throat and introduced
herself. “As you all can see on the board, I am Miss Elisabeth from Banj, Western Highlands
Province. I have been assigned to you as your Class Patron” she said. She went on and told us a bit
more about herself. Normally high school teachers graduated out of Goroka Teacher’s college (now
univrersity of Goroka –UOG) to teach in high schools, but she told us that she applied to teach after
graduating from the university of Papua New Guinea (UPNG). I felt then that this factor made her a
little more different from the other national teachers. She was young, single and I should add that
she was tall and looked pretty seeing her typically from a young boy’s eyes. After she completed her
story which took about 10 minutes or so for her ice breaking phase to get us settled and focused, she
then asked us to go around the room and introduce oursleves individually to the class. Like the
others I introduced my self.. “ Hello everyone, my name is Pati and my father’s name is Lafanama. I
am from Lufa in the Eastern Highlands Province but grew up in Kundiawa. My last school was Gon
Community School”, and I sat down. There was nothing special or classy about me that may have
attracted an admiration of some sort from the class girls and boys. My appearance, especially my
skinny structure and my dressing style which was below standard would have given them an obvious
idea of my social status and family setting. This factor however, became an advantage to me in my
four years as it some how kept me among the common student population and enabled me to freely
mix.

When the bell rang we were told that fourty minutes was up and it was time for another class. It was
a bit slow and confusing at first to move from one class to another with all our books in hand going
to where our subject teachers were stationed. We learnt that the classes were called periods and all
subjects were allocated into forty minute slots and we had to move upon hearing the bell to another
subject class. This was a total departure from our last school system in which we were taught
everything by one teacher and spent the entire school year in one classroom. No wonder, I would
have thought to myself then that, this was why they called it high school. And high school it was, as
everything was systematically and timely done with such discipline, diligence and order that all
students on the campus, seniors and juniors alike were all expected to conform. I realised I had just
begun the first school day of my four years on this campus and there was still a long way to go.
However, the onus was on me to adapt, survive and succeed or markup and fail. The latter result
would not have been the sort of outcome or expectation for Nawavo simply because he was
someone who believed in hard work and success.

In his simple world, Nawavo had set his own standards or perhaps was endowed on him by nature,
summed up in three principles – humbleness, hardwork, respect, and the result was success. For
him, success was not in the form of accumulating wealth as we never experienced minimum luxury,
because his circumstances didnt allow for that, but he equated result to survival. He was a humble
man, respected everyone around him, and worked extremely hard, all to make sure his family could
survive to see the next day. The virtues he possessed with his prayerful life and devotedness to his
church gave him elevation and experiences that took him away from his drain cleaning and grass
cutting jobs to semi-skilled welding and plumbing jobs.

Nawavo started and ended his working life in various odd jobs with the Public Works Department
(PWD). He was working on the road sides when he send me to pre-school. When I began high school,
he had moved and was engaged as an assistant or support staff in the trades division which carried
out plumbing, welding and electrical works. The journey between odd jobs at one stage kept him for
couple of years at the Kundiawa airstrip. He would move up and down the entire strip cutting grass
that were growing under the fence, those not easily cut by tractor sledgers. I remembered walking
sometimes along the strip to locate him after school. At my age, I didnt see anything wrong or odd
with it , just admiration as I only saw a man working extremely hard to earn money for us. From
there he was asked to work at the single quarters that housed trainees under appreticeship program
with graduates from technical schools around the country. But again he worked around the two
houses cutting grass, doing the flower gardens and cleaning drains. On the inside, he had his own
wantoks, Papa Lamato who accomodated us when I first came to Kundiawa and Uncle Isipi (SP) who
had at one stage lived with us in the same house, were responsible for house keeping such as
cooking, laundry and room keeping. Nawavo was soon moved to do inside jobs when uncle SP got
moved to a new single quarter which was built at the southern end of the Kundiawa Dicksons field.
Nawavo worked at the single quarters quite deligently and befriended many of the young tradesmen
as time went by. He struck luck coupe of years later when one of them soon became a supervisor
and gave him an opportunity to do something different. That was when he was moved to assist the
tradesmen in the welding and plumbing section. At least at this stage, I was comfortable enough to
tell my school mates in high school that my dad worked as a welder. I tried to pride myself with his
achievement but for him, it was work only and all he wanted was for me to understand his struggles
and make it count in my conducts and academic output at high school.

I wasn’t short of friends on this new campus so my adjustment and adaptation went pretty well.
Apart from class mates of my own from my last school, I also had seniors in this school that had also
attended my previous school and knew me enough. Kondago Kubu, who is of mix parentage of
Eastern Highlands and Simbu was one such that kept an eye on me as I was his Ukelele player in
Kundiawa whenever he organised a stringband performance. They at least gave me smiles, asked
how I was doing and found time to give me encouragement. Bigger comfort came from my own
relative. Donny Lafanama was a year ahead in grade eight and was at hand to provide me and
Uvevira useful tips and guide as we settled in.

Donny came to Kundiawa in 1978 from Agotu community school in Lufa, some kilometers south
from our village at Hegetoru 2. He is related to me in a partenal way and I accepted him as a big
brother from the time he started school at Gon in 1978. He choose to take on Lafanama for his
surname from that point on, and only recently added a third name to it, calling himself Donny Mai
Lafanama. Despite him been available always, I choose to keep with my own peers in the likes of
Tolly, David, William and Wagi.

Uvevira is related to me and there was Foggy from Mengino in Lufa but we only talked when
necessary or when we lacked something one or the other might have. As school progressed, we all
found new friends and I spent a bit more time with others like Dilu Siune, Molki Mogl, John Simai,
Bens Damba, Elisah Guri and I made sisters of Mun Robin, Kama Guno, Dope Kua and Agnes Kaupa
to mention a few. I also found new company in other Eastern highlands peers that happenend to
have come into grade seven in the same year. Those that I was close with included Eric Opeka,
Robert Boss and Job Tarume. I still remember most of them but those that I have forgotten along the
way perhaps still remember me as the distance of time took us further apart. Yet again, the closest
to me when it came to acedemic activities in my four years were my new found mates in the class of
7P. We stucked togther as a class untill 1983 when we completed grade 10 at KHS and passed out.

The 7Ps saw some qualities they admired in me and couple of weeks into the first term of year 7, the
majority elected me as their class captain when our patron asked us to do so. I probabaly would
have liked someone else to take this responsibility and in such situation where I am among the
nominees, I would normally mark other names and not my own. My vote was lost in someone else
when the majority in class went for me as if they had known me for the last four years. All
classmates from my last school who knew of my class captain roles had all been scattered among the
other classes and it would not have been possible for them to play some part in getting me this duty
again. However, my new classmates just figured out that I would represent them well. Throughout
the four years, they trusted me and maintained their support in the role they continued to bestow
on me. Again, it was this group that played a pivotal role in getting me elected to the position of KHS
school captain in 1983. It might have been my minut gestures of humility, openess and support to
my mates that kept their trust and loyalty in me as their friend and spokes person.

One principle I mainatined throughout my role as class captain was making sure girls were not
intimidated in any way, respected and assisted whenever they called for help. When we had
blackouts during night studies, I would immediately call for silence asking all to sit still until power
returned and in cases where the outage went on a little longer than expected, I would organise for
some lighting and sought help from the boys to lead the girls to safety. I made time to chat with
almost everyone, both boys and girls in my class and had no favorites. I enjoyed working with my
mates on homeworks and assignment and when someone called for my help, even when I didnt
understand all of it, I would often try to make time to listen and assist. As a class leader, my goal
would often be to make our patron happy by meeting expectations at work parade duties assigned
to us as well as trying hard to be among the top groups when competitions were organised to find
the best class in the school in terms of classroom tidiness, attendence and behaivors. The first year
was a settling in year but apart from having achieved that well, I had started accepting extra
curricular duties such as dorm and mess prefect. As class captains, we were often given duties to
oversee tasks and instructions given to groups of students, including that of our own classes. These
extra roles brought me closer to senior students, senior teachers, support staff and at times with
the Principals. I often felt elated whenever I was commented on or acknowledged by the school
superiors, and to be marked out when you were still a junior was something special. I thought I had
mastered good rapport in the school campus from the very beginning and that set the pace for my
next three years.

What made learning a lot more interesting and exciting for me was the blend of teaching staff. The
national blend of teachers from all over the country was creamed off by the engagement of
expatriate teachers. As I think back, this composition made the academia environment more
conducive and enticing for learning and with expatriates, the wider outside world was brought closer
to us through the learning and social interactions we had with them as students. These overseas
volunteer teachers in my time at KHS were mostly British, Canandian and Australian. They took up
positions as senior teachers, department heads and as Headmasters.

In my first year I rememebered very clearly two teachers, Mr Allan Marriot who is British and Mr
Mackiman who is Canandian. Mr Mackimen taught Expressive Arts and Pactical Skills and left at the
end of 1980 as his term was up, while Mr Marriot taught Maths and Science and served his term at
KHS till 1983. I remembered them quite vividly because both were popular among the students for
their fun and interaction. For me, it was more so for their distinct abnomality. In Mr Mackimem’s
class, we would have to listen hard enough to hear him as his Canadian accent was made even more
difficult by a split in his upper lip leaving a scar that severed his speech clarity. Mr Marriot however
had a medical condition in his right shoulder that causes impulsive ejections every five to six seconds
shaking his upper right body to the left. Every student of his would remember his method in class for
getting attention... “ Pens down, eyes up” and when he wanted us to start writing, “ pens up, ready,
go”. Both these two teachers drove bikes and it was always interesting to observe how Mr Marriot
handles his bike. He would swing to the left every now and then whenever the shoulder ejections
occur and we would often joke about him having accidents. But he was such a fun teacher and we
loved his teaching style.

In 1981, KHS got embroiled in a management controvesy when an educationist of Egyptian Origin, by
the name of Mr Havivie was contracted to the school as Head Master. I will get to the details of this
incident later as it impacted on me in a big way. But despite this, more expatriate teachers moved in
and out between 1982 and 1983. While I was in the senior grades, I could recall clearly two husband
wife combination, all from Canada. For couple one, the husband whose name was Mr Bruce Muir
taught English and Guidance lessons while his pretty partner taught English and Social
studies. For couple two, Miss Miller taught English while the husband whose name was Mr Pierce,
took the position of school Principal. He performed pretty well as the school’s administrator and I
could say that with every confidence as I was the School’s headboy under his administration.

Like all other expat teachers, they all enjoyed doing their job and went out of their way to give us
their best. I remembered them well for their private but at times open disagreements and
arguments as couples. These were never so conspicious but whenever I saw signs of that, I would in
a funny way, perhaps from my indigenous mindset judge the whitemans so called perfect world in
which there were supposed to be people with no problems. However, the more I interacted with
them, the more I matured in my view of their world and wondered too if I would ever get the chance
to visit their countries. These expatriate teachers would often tell us to learn and work hard in our
academic performance as education was the key and could open doors for us to travel overseas,
even to their countries.

Nevertheless, the trend in 1983 for overseas teacher program was obvious. The engagement of
expatriate volunteer teachers was on the decline, perhaps due to policy change and the increase in
output of national teachers by our two universities. In any case, I had benefited immensely from the
privilege of learning from them, interracting with them and appreciating the connection with their
countries through them, thereby bringing the outside world closer to me.

This experience for many of us represented a unique taste of first contact and bridging with foreign
races, especially white people and layed the foundation that inspired motivation and courage to look
at the bigger world as an opportunity to explore and exploit.The later part of my life proved that
these lessons did impact on me in critical ways. For instance, as the school’s headboy in 1983, I
recieved a lot of leadership couching, advise and support from Mr Pierce, the Principal. These
advices became my guide and set standards in my life’s path, particularly in my leadership duties in
school, roles in my activist life that made me travel overseas including to Canada, but perhaps more
significant in my duty and call to national politics.

First taste of activism

The roles and responsibilities which I took on early in my primary school days and ones that
continued throughout into my work life pointed me in a certain direction.. It was that others around
me saw something different in my character and nature which I could handle with great confidence.
The first big break came for higher leadership roles when I was voted in as the school captain in
1983. This experience came in the fourth and final year of high school, but what peculiarly surged
ahead out of me happened during the 8th grade. An activity which am about to relate to reflect an
inherent passion for activism that surfaced and grew with me from this point. It had a huge impact
and influence on the entire course of my life.

From yet another perspective, simply because of the way my life was being shaped by how others
around me, especially at school relate to me, my interest in girls took a very long time to shape out.
It may well be that either I was not too impressive in the eyes of girls or that they kept their respect
and distance because of my roles. Nonetheless, I eventually came around to it and felt the charms of
girls towards the end of my final year in high school, but something never on Nawavo’s list of dos for
me.

I recall a period in the first half of the 1981 school year when activities in the school were done quite
orderly on time and carried out with firm control and discipline in the school programes and in
behaivor both of students and teachers. There was xero tolerance on indiscipline and all aspects of
school activities including lateness, visitors, weekend leaves, study times, teaching times, meal times
and bed times were all strictly monitored. In essence every activity in the school was coherently
programmed to be executed without question. As a result, the school’s landscape – the roads, foot
paths, flowers beds, drains, play fields, loans in between classrooms and staff houses, school’s
agriculture plots as well, and the interior and exterior of classrooms turned cutely impressive and
easily admirable. The transformation could be quickly spotted by visiting parents, visitors and
dignitories and it fast became a talk of the Kerowagi township and surrounding tribal communities.
More significantly, the villages at the periphery of the school boundaries, particularly the Siku and
Pagau villagers were the first to experience the impact. The school’s security guards were so strict
that the Siku villagers could never cross the school perimeter fencing from the southern end and the
Pagau Villagers could not cross the Tem nigle creek from the western end in to the school grounds.

In the past, there was relaxed attitude in the way things happened but with the new administrator,
his message was simple and clear ‘No trespass’. The administrator single handedly confronted
anyone that had an issue with this and faced them himself. In the school, teachers and students
alike dared to come face to face with him for discipline reasons. He was firm and committed to his
plans for the school and he saw no time for slackness and indiscipline by parties on the campus. He
wanted nothing less than a beautiful, sound and balanced learning environment for students and all
had to adhere to the rules to achieve the goal. He presented himself as one with noble intentions
and ran a diligent and iron fist administration. At least that the way I saw it and it impressed on me
many years later that Kerowagi High School had the privilege of having such a visionary manager
who believed in quality and excellence. His name was Mr Havivie, an expatriate of Egyptian origin
who was engaged as the Principal to run the school.

My own encounters with Mr Havivie left some lasting impressions on me. I was in grade 8 and the
class captain of my class. One experience I remembered well was a competiton he announced and
ran with the help of his faithful staff members despite an obvious growing resentment in his no-
nonsesne style of management by some senior staff. The competition was called ‘Classroom
Excellence’. Points were given weekly for classroom tidyness, class attendence and class behavior
and the whole school was involved. It was such a competition that aroused a huge sense of
involvement in the well-being of our learning environment and our motivation in academic
excellence. My class was in the top catagory in points because we took the competition seriously not
just to win some prices, but also because we concluded quickly that the competition gave us life
lessons including making us committed to our academic goals. We even worked on this project in
our free times, particulalry on weekends. There were times when we had some unannounced and
surprise random visits to the classrooms by Mr Havivie. He found me number of times in my
classroon when I was supervising roostered classmates on some duties. He would make positive
comments and invited me to collect cleaning materials directly from him whenever we ran short.
I recall one particular time on a Saturday when I was so desperate for floor polish and not finding the
duty teacher, I had no choice but to see Mr Havivie. I went straignt to his house and controlling my
nervousness, I knocked at his door. He came to the door full of smiles and invited me. After
introducing me to his wife, he asked me to sit down to have a glass of juice. At this point I almost
fainted. My heart was pumping fast as I thought hard about how to express my need and also
because going into a white person’s living quarters was a totally new encounter for me. He probably
read me and quickly calmed me down with a glass of orange and some sweet biscuits. After I had
finished, he made me walk with him to the main office and handed me a drum of floor polish which
was more than what I had requested. The competition however, never reached its final stage as it
came to an abrupt halt when it got disrupted by the full grown resentment by a faction of staff
members togther with the school board that finally culminated in the controversy to remove him.

Whenever I think about that issue and my involvement in the protest actions to stop Mr Havivie’s
removal, just the taught of it often sends shivers up my spine as the issue sparked divisions in the
school leading to a state of near closure and for me individually,it almost costed my continuity in
school. It must have been the month of July in 1981 and that particular Friday afternnon when I was
assisting in the practical skills room, I was approached by the subject teacher, a very socialable
character by the name of Mr Raphael Komainde (late) and spoke to me about what some senior
teachers were planning. He was against their move and invited me to a meeting of some selected
students and staff members. I was too junior and to be called in, as I could recall that moment, I
knew it was not because I was vocal and outstanding in any particular way. I was simply invited to be
part of the discussion as one of the class captains on campus and as it turned out, it was a meeting
of few concerned staff with student leaders. They may have had some meetings prior as this one
seemed to be the final one for taskings as Mr Havivie’s removal was imminent. I didnt fully
understand the big picture and the implications of what I was going into but my tasks were
absolutely clear. I was assigned two tasks, one was to sabotage all the vehicles on the campus and
prevent their movement comes the morning of protest day, and secondly I was to assist in the
production of placards for the planned march on Monday after the weekend. The time set to clock in
and begin our operation was 1200 hrs sharp on Sunday night by which time all preparations should
have been finalised. How we got out from our dormitories was in our hands and then we were to
congregate in the school captains room, a big enough room at the end of the Siune double
dormitory on the top floor.

I think it didnt occur to me that time that I was engaging in something serious that could cost my
education at this school. It may have been my class captain ego or perhaps the drive to demonstrate
some leadership capability, yet I felt driven by an urge for justice towards a lone man with good
intentions. I was certain my judgement was not clouded and my decision to engage was in good faith
for the school’s sake. I had taken a position with a team that believed that Mr Havivie had good
plans and should not be removed from this school just because some teachers could not function
under his strict management policies. Had I been ignorant and confused about this issue, I could not
have taken the next lot of steps. And for most part of it really, I think I had assumed that our voice
would be heard and we would win because our objective was clear. The ‘what if they didnt hear us’
side of concern didnt register in my mind perhaps because I may have been a little naive. In all
these, I too did forget that I was putting my Nawavo’s dreams for me at great risk and what a
devastation it would have been for him if I had got thrown out of school.

Before the domitory lights went off that night, I quickly called on couple of my most trusted peer
friends to assist, especially in the preparation of placards. They had to be good in drawing and sign
writing. William Mondo was the obvious one with artistic ability and the other two that I knew
would help without hesitation were Tolly Tara and David Peter (late). My tasks didnt require the help
of many and this operation was suppose to be a top secret until the next morning. After hearing
from me what was in plan, William, Tolly and David agreed to sneak out quietly at 1200 hrs and help
out. We reminded ourselves that we were making moves against the school’s rules but it was
necessary to be part of the action to prevent the removal of someone with a vision for the school.
We just had to be very cautious.

At the appointed time my team managed to sneak around to the captain’s room. Already other
student leaders were there strategising and working on their tasks. The Captain showed us our
materials and gave us a corner to start putting words on the already cut outnbutcher papers. While
waiting for my partners for the second task which was the vehicle sabotage plan, I gave some time to
the team contributing ideas for the slogans and cartoons that would go on the placards. To complete
this task, we quickly identified a challenge. The sticks or poles for the placards would have be
collected. This, my three buddies agreed to organise them at dawn by going down to Tem Nigle
(creek) to cut some pitpit or flower trees to use as poles. It was not long before I was signalled to go
outside in the dark and at this instance, I immediately knew it was time to get to my next
assignment.

There were three persons waiting for me. One was obviously a senior student, the second was the
duty teacher and the third was a security guard. The senior student had a plastic bag containing stuff
we would need for the task. We found a small talking space at the back of both the Siune and
Mengagl dorms near a newly constructed ablution and toilet blocks. They seemed to have agreed
among them about what to do so they just simply explained to me my part. They showed me the
staple pins which I was to push carefully into the key holes of all the targeted vehicles on the
campus. They also pulled out for me to see couple of corned beef cans that were already opened.
When I stared back at them in question, they said this was for dogs if ever they barked loudly or
came near, particularly the aggressive ones at the Deputy Principal’s house. They then pointed out
for me the targeted vehicles in the school. The first was the school truck which was normally parked
near the main office. That I would have thought was easy. The second was the office vehicle that was
usually kept by Mr Mathias Silas, the Deputy Principal. That we figured gave a big challenge as he
had two strong dogs which were kept unchained at nights and his parking space sits at the width end
of his house facing the junior girls domitory. This house stood at the entrance of the northen end
gate. The third target was a car owned by a senior expatriate teacher and lived in a house by the
Tem Creek culvet bridge along the road leading to passed the school to Kewamugl. There were two
houses at that end which were a little further and must pass the northen end gate near Mr Sailas’s
house to go there. It would take about five minutes to reach the culvet bridge and here we figured
that our noise at the gate may woke both houses up to find out what we were doing there at such
hour. The other teams were counting on us to get this vital operation right. It may have taken us
near an hour to agree to the specific moves to execute and the one o’clock hour period was a
perfect time to strike as we knew people on campus would have been be dead asleep.

We made our move to the first target. At the main office building we found the School truck parked
in its ususal place. As the senior student stood watching, I quickly moved up to the truck with
enough staple pins clutched in my palm. With a sharp pointed small cutting knife in hand I quickly
plugged in the staple pins and pushed each individual staple pin deeper with the knife. I realised I
could only manage to get in four pins. From the driver’s side I moved at lighting speed around the
front of the truck to the crew side and did the same. I was satisfied with what I did and walked back
to the senior student signalling that target one had been achieved. We waved and signalled success
to the duty teacher who was watching from the office varender as if doing something and the guard
who kept eyes on the street running past the office from the northern end gate and ending at the
front of the school’s soccer field between the mess and the boys mengagl and siune dorms. With the
guard watchfully tracking behind, the three of us headed for the second target.
It was all silent when we reach the Deputy HeadMaster’s House. The Teacher pulled back to keep an
eye out as we appraoched the entrance of the yard. The dogs seemed to be deep in sleep as there
was no indication of movement or growl so as planned, we moved together up to the front of the
house, a lowly planned structure with its varender and steps about a meter high. My partner would
stand in front of the house near the steps and wait for any one that woke up or the dogs charging at
us. If someone woked, then he would ask to speak to the Deputy Headmaster about a situation in
one of the boys dorms but if the dogs came first, he would calm them down by throwing the can of
opened corned beef. I was to move fast and do my job on the office vehicle, an open back single cab
Nissan model. It so happened that the two dogs suddently woke and charged at my partner first and
by then I was already crawling up to my target, which was like 10 meters away in sight at the
opposite end of the house. He did what he had to do as I quickly and as fast as I could pushed in the
staples, first door and then the second with the help of my small knife. I wasnt sure if I did a good
job but with the dogs already woken and momentarily calmed by their gobbling of the corned beef
struggling to pull everthing out of the can, I had made a good enough effort to make the driver
struggle in the morning. The dogs were still busy and no one from the house had woken so I
confidently crawled back to my partner who had moved position into a darker sport at the entrance
of the yard. The four of us regathered sponteneously at the Northern end gate and pleased with our
achievement so far, got our security man to open the gate locks with his keys and exited to the main
road out of the school fences. Our next target was in view from the top as we started walking down
the Kewamugl road to our final target near the culvet bridge.

We knew that target three would be difficult as the gate to the yards of the two houses was always
locked and the keys kept by the tenants. We had worked out a smart approach to at least try and
wake the teacher in the house immediate to the gate first for permission to see the expatriate
teacher in the second house whom we knew was roosted for duty. If it turned out well, our move
would be for the senior student prefect to walk up the steps of the high stilt house, knock and if the
teacher woke up, he would keep him busy with a fake situation report in a boys dormitory while I do
my business on his car. The lady teacher in the first house happened to be the wife of the Provincial
Education head and quiet often Mr Andrew Maina would travel in from Kundiawa to over-night and
go back. He happened to be sleeping over this particular Sunday night, perhaps had come in to
spend the weekend. When Mrs Maina woke up to our banging at the gate, Mr Maina also followed
out to their varender. The teacher in our team kept in the dark on the other side of the road while
the three of us faced Mrs Maina. The senior student apologised for disturbing them from their sleep
and explained that there was an urgent situation at the dorms and he wanted to explain it while it
was fresh to the duty teacher. After a short pause and discussion, Mrs Maina came over and opened
the gate. She asked us to lock the gate when we had done our reporting.

While the guard waited at the gate, two of us moved into action. I started on the first door of the
small car as he put his first foot on the step of the house. By the time he started knocking I had
moved to the second door in the cover of the dark imposed by the car shed and I could see the
husband and wife still looking on. However, what was actually happening at the door was something
else. The senior student was moving his palm in knocking motion but he wasnt actually hitting the
door. He was merely miming it and giving me time to finish my job. When I showed my face up the
steps, he knew I was done so he stopped and walked down sounding disappointment, loud enough
to reach the ears of the couple on the varendah of the first house, at not having to get a response
from inside the house. We indicated to the couple that the expatriate teacher was deep in sleep and
did not respond so the reporting would have to be done in the morning. We then locked the gate
behind us and walked back to the campus very pleased with our accomplishment. The time must
have been 2.30am and I managed to sneak back into my room for a short sleep.
PROTEST DAY
Waking up to the sound of breakfast bell and walking into the mess that cool Monday morning felt
pretty peculiar. The atmosphere in the mess seemed unnerving or unsettling as there was look of
suspicion among students towards each other not knowing what the other person was thinking.
Students were whispering and mumbling between themselves but there was no apparent sign of
anything exciting about to happen. This was of course part of our strategy and the action plan for the
march to Kundiawa was meant to come on them as an element of surprise. It was intended that
amidst panic and confusion, the majority would react without knowing much and follow the minority
who have been carefully mobilised to walk out of the campus and onto the main road. As usual our
wheat breakfast came first followed by distribution of tea buckets carried by the prefects along each
row of tables for us to fetch into our individual cups. If I could remember what ensured clearly, It
was that the last lot of tables had not recieved their share of tea yet when we were called to
attention for an important annoucement. The protest leader, a grade 10 student walked up to the
front. I felt it coming and remembered going quiet first and then numb being worried about how the
general student body would react.

“ My fellow students, please listen carefully. Today is a special day because today we will stand up
for what is right and good for this school”, he began. After explaining why Mr Havivie had to be
retained in the school as HeadMaster, he concluded, “ we will not attend the assembly this morning
so go and leave your cups, get changed not for class but for a long walk to Kundiawa, to see the
Provicncial Education bosses” Suddenly from somewhere in the mess, another senior student, quiet
big in built walked straight up to the protest leader, emptied his hot cup of tea on his head and
landed a punch in his face. As the protest leader staggered to the side, the challenger announced
that students could not be forced to take this action as it may joepadise their education and that it
was a very short notice. Sponteneously students began fleeing out of the mess through the door and
from the open sides of the mess building. A commotion began among supporters as senior students
took sides but was quickly brough under control. What could have been an explosive situation on
the campus among student factions was quickly calmed as it seemed the two student leaders came
from the same Area known as Dom in the Gumine District. Nevertheless, this confrontation in the
mess did disturb and scare the minds of a good number of students. It was very apparent that the
call had been made and the line had been drawn. It was plain from their movement and directions
returning from their dorms that many students wanted to be part of the day’s excitement. The
momentum was on and there was no turning back.

My three buddies, William, Tolly and David had done an excellent job as I noticed them at the front
of the Siune Dorms handing out the placards they had stuck out on sticks. Things happened so fast as
the Instruction was that everyone should be out of the main gate before the opposition staff faction
learn of it and move to lock the main gate. As many of us were heading for the gate, the assembly
bell kept ringing. It was the first time this bell rang so loud and for a very long time. At this exact
moment, I got signalled to change direction with few others to go as fast as we could to Mr
Komainde’s practical skills classroom to shoulder a bill board with protest writings. The assembly
square area was in plain view from this classroom and I could easily see students and teachers alike
standing in a state of shock starring across the road as more and more students continue to flee
towards the main gate running between classrooms and flower beds. The bill board that my team
had carried out was summoned to the front to lead what would be a long walk so we took our
position and never looked back. The force of students in hundreds behind us was huge, apart from
the weight of the board and the pace was extra-ordinarily fast and pretty exhausting but the
excitement of freedom out of the campus and doing something special for the school was
overwhelming and strong enough to drown any sense of burden or complaint. All I could hear from
behind us were the chanting and singing as we took on the first lag into surenigl catholic mission
station and onward down to the junction at Korenigle bridge.
It must have been a two hours of walk when we reach Korenigle bridge. At this point we became
aware quickly that a good number of us remained back on the school campus and so many others
that dragged behind the walk were rounded up and forced back to school by the anti-Havivie staff
faction who were pushing the agenda. Up to this point, the man we were fighting for was still living
on the campus and was pretty much in control of the school. The faction group apparently used the
office vehicle to follow the students as far as the Surenigle mission station and pursuaded them to
return to school. That of course meant that they had managed to rectify the vehicle sabotage job
and followed hours later, which was really the objective and they could not do much to prevent our
move. It was funny too though, as related to us by some students during the walk that upon
discovering that a march was happening, teachers in a state of panic began announcing tests to run
throughout the week. They won over some but still more than two thirds of the students were
adamant to take the walk. During a short rest at the junction of the Koronigle bridge, our protest
marshalls reminded us once more that what we were doing was for the good future of the school
and we had to keep walking. The next stop was Kunabau and we were told that at this point trucks
would pick us up for the final lag into Kundiawa. We had already walked about five kilometers this
far and it would be another three kilometers to reach Kunabau, except this time it would be an uphill
walk from Korenigle and we all knew the challenge. The time would have been about 10.30am. As
we were ushered across the bridge, I could quiet clearly see that some groups of students kept
sitting. It meant they either did not want the uphill walk or have decided to return to school. There
was nothing the leaders could do to force them to keep to the walk plan but tried to stay focused on
the mission to lead the many who have committed to keep walking. By the time we reached
Kunabau, we were all exhausted and weak, thirsty and hungry and couldnt help but take cover under
any available tree or bush shade on both sides of the highway. Those who could afford ran to the
small trade stores or the road side markets there to grab something to reduce their hunger or thirst
but most of us sat starring in the direction of Kundiawa,to the East for our promised transportation.

This far, I had just been part of the crowd as I wasnt senior enough to provide leadership in the tick
of things such as this apart from my assigned tasks on the campus, but it was becoming obvious on
the faces of classmates and friends I had convinced to join in the walk that they were beginning to
regret simply because of hunger and thirst. I began doubting as well and this was happening also
because we had waited too long for our expected help. Almost at the virtual point of losing hope and
when thoughts of heading back to school began emerging in our discussions, our first relieve
appeared from the west. But when we caught sight of the school truck approaching, our first
conclusion was that our teachers had finally caught up with us so we almost took cover in the nearby
bushes. However, when we saw the lights blinking and recognised our school guards waving at us,
we knew immediately that Mr Havivie had come to our aid. The truck was loaded with our mess
wheat balls, tinned fish and meat, and containers of water. The walk marshalls quickly took control
and organised the distribution so everyone had something to eat and drink. We also receieved a
message from the headmaster that he would not abandon us and because we had come this far, we
should continue and complete it. He promised to send more food into Kundiawa.

It wasnt long before the promised dump trucks numbering five to six turned up at our location. A
business man named Lucas Kiak from the nearby Naruku tribe heard about our plight for the school’s
situation and committed his support to our fight by sending his trucks. Thrilled with joy and
excitment, and with renewed energy and confidence we shouted the Simbu war cries and sang at
the top of voices all the way into Kundiawa town, with the trucks moving in a single file style and
their horns beeping away complemented by blinking lights. Most of the general public saw us with
wonder as to what we were up to but among those who stood and observed keenly were our
parents who flocked into town after getting the news. We went there for a purpose and we had just
the afternoon daylight to present our grievance to the education Authorities and this was the only
day to do that and return quickly to school.

However, that was not to be the case. The authorities were not available to see us quickly when we
marched to the head office buildng. Whether it was a deliberate action on their part to frustrate us
was something I never figured out. All I knew was that we were told to go back to school which we
blatantly refused. It may have been that they didnt know how to recieve such protest action as it
had never happened before to such an extend where students were truly serious. This was a very
radical action in the history of schools in the Province and it was natural that they behaved that way.
It would also be true to add that they had no precedent to guide them to answer to this case.
Whatever they were up to we could not tell but some of us assumed that they had sided with the
faction of teachers back at school. Their refusal to meet us and our position not to butch meant we
had to secure shelter for the night. The Education head office was close to the Kundiawa Catholic
diocese and its church hall was close by so our leaders quickly sought permission to spend the night
there. Our Premier then was Mr Mathew Siune who, having learnt of our predicament, came to our
aid by providing food and taking some students, particularly girls to rest at his official residence on
Premiers Hill. Those of us from Kundiawa made sure that we brought back enough water to the
church hall for our school mates. My buddy Tolly Tara’s house, which is one I also treat as home
happens to be just across the road, about three minutes walk from the hall so we made sufficient
trips to bring water and whatever food stuff we could grab for our friends. Later that evening, Mr
Havivie again send the school truck loaded with food as promised to feed us for the night. The ration
seemed special as what we were served looked better than the usual school mess dinners. With full
stomach, we planned for the next day with anticipation for our answer and entertained ourselves
with singing till we felt tied and fell to the floor of the hall finding sleep.

For me it still seemed almost like a fun activity. When I sneaked off to my home at Dogor Nigle to
quickly collect something to cover me that night, Nawovo was especially shocked to see me but I
proudly told him and my mother that we were engaged in something important for the school. They
had no comprehension of things like protest and marches. What however, didnt occur to me yet too
I believe was the realisation that this activity was wrong in so far as the school rules were concerned
and carries heavy disciplinary consequences. I guess I was ignorant and still naive as a grade eight
student and the excitment of involving in something interesting and extraordinary clouded my mind.
This far to Kundiawa in terms of the action, I saw nothing wrong. I was involved in this with my
school mates for a genuine cause. Mr Havivie was doing a marvellous job in bringing the image and
management of the school to a higher standard and the idea that he could no longer continue
because some teachers didnt like him, was something we could not simply ignore. We desired to
stop his removal and this action was our only hope. The action we were taking seemed right but at
the same time we lacked the ability to percieve the counter actions of the faction group of teachers
and students that remained back on the campus. Nonetheless, I was convinced that the senior
student leaders and teachers involved with us had done their homework to cover our back. I was
confident that we would achieve our objective by the look of things so the hind side of things just
didnt impact much on my young mind. The level of confidence in my thoughts and feeling jubilant
about the answer we would bring back to school for Mr Havivie soothed me off to sleep that very
night.

The students who had slept out regrouped back with us at the Catholic hall and after directions from
the leaders about the days plan, we marched back to the education head office not far from the hall
with the loudest possible noises we could afford to make without the help of any loud hailers or PA
system. The number of students as I observed seemed reduced. The reason may be that they had
either returned to school or merely came along to take time out of school. The implication simply
meant some sort of answer had to come out quickly from the authorities before mid-day or further
reduction in numbers may suppress the desired outcome labbeling our activity as minority action.
Many of us could not bear the heat of the morning sun standing and waiting so we sought shelter
under the shades of flowers and trees in the Kundiawa International school yard. It would have been
about three hours of meeting with our student leaders when they finally emerged out of it with
faces full of smiles. They had news and it seemed a favorable one so we all rushed back eagerly to
where we were standing and shouting before. When they announced it, we all shouted out in
jubilation the familier simbu war cry and punched about the air with joy and excitment. The
authorities have heard our views and stated that it was in the best interest of the school for Mr
Havivie to remain as Head Master and that being their response, they demanded that we
immediately returned to school. They assisted in organising some trucks to transport us back to the
school so we all headed back to Kerowagi in a convoy singing and shouting at the top of our voices
and as we entered the school gates, our volume of singing became the loudest. The students that
had remained back on campus rushed in from all directions to hear us. I was just getting off the truck
in front of the School’s administration block when couple of police vehicles drove into the school at
high speed after the last of the convoy trucks. We figured something had gone wrong and found
ourselves whispering to each other what that might be.

The Kerowagi Police station Commander, a fierce and a no nonsense popular police officer named
Backley Yarume (late) stepped out of his vehicle with a stern look across all of us there in his vicinity
causing us to take some steps back while many others walked off in different directions scared he
was there to conduct arrests. When he opened his mouth to speak, he uttered an unexpected
message that surprised and shocked all of us that faithfully went on the march. He said Mr Havivie
had been arrested and taken to Kundiawa to get on the next flight to Port Moresby to face
authorities and he would no longer be at school and that all students should return to classes
without no further activities and discussions about Mr Havivie. With heads sunk to our chest and
feeling frustratingly exhausted, all of us that just got off the trucks headed back to our dormitories
wondering what this might mean for us and what awaits us the coming days.

What followed rest of the week was full of fury and rage towards perpetrators of what the newly
installed administration labelled as illegal march. They were totally unsympathetic. The atmosphere
in the school was tense and unwelcoming for those that left the school boundary for the two
consecutive days. It was almost damning for the ring leaders especially those that had their names
listed and posted everywhere on notice boards. I got the biggest shock and fright of my life when I
saw my name down on the list somewhere. I honestly didnt expect my name as I believed I didnt
play any significant part in been a ring leader for the march. My brother Donny was so upset that I
had been named and was the first to scold me for acting smart and warned me to be ready to pack
and leave school. He sensed the disciplinary action from the school’s board would be harsh.
Teachers from the anti-Havivie team were all fumed up with comments to tosh at us whenever we
entered their classrooms. They expressed with disgust and insensitivity that the march would carry
the highest penalty of explusionl for ring leaders. When the school board met on that Friday, it made
its determination on the ring leaders. For reasons I could only guess, I was spared with couple other
juniors from the expulsion list. A good number of senior students, most of them boys got the
explusion notice and permanently left campus. I felt lucky indeed for the opportunity to remain but
have lived with constant sympathy for those that were dismissed for an action that was merely
taken with the school and its future at heart.

When this episode was over, I continued in school as if nothing serious had happened, just only been
lucky that Nawavo was not up to the level and comprehension to be woken to the serious
implication of what I had just got out from. If he was, he would have been totally disturbed and
would not have hesitated to imposeon me some disciplinary action. Had I been expelled, his dreams
would have been totally shattered and he would not have known why it had to be that way. Perhaps
at some point, Donny, Uvevira or Foggy might have told him the story of how I narrowly escaped
explusion but this did not have the same impact as would have been with seeing me come home
with my baggage and telling him that I could never return to school again. Knowing his deep concern
for my schooling, Nawavo would have probably fought for me to be back in school because of his
limited understanding of offences that lead to explusion. Nevetheless, he was the proudest man at
the end of 1981 when news broke to him that I had passed my grade eight and would continue into
grade nine comes 1982.

TASTE OF HIGH SCHOOL ROMANCE

From another exciting perspective, girls seemed to show little interest in me, I mean the kind that
would make you want cross their path every end of class intervals. I could only guess. Apparently,
my character was being shaped by how others around me in class and school relate to me because
of my roles and as such certain interest in me took time to shape out. I couldnt tell if they liked me
or talked to me out of respect.. But I am sure I was not impressive in their judgement and lacked
the appeals that made girls turn their heads. It may well be that. Nonetheless, I eventually felt the
charms of girls towards the end of my final year in high school, something never on Nawavo’s list of
dos for me.

That peculiar interest got triggered and intrigued me to some exciting extent but didnt seem
troublesome. I began paying a bit of attention but the reactions were not significant as I never got
noticed the way it happened to other boys. I could not compare myself with other handsome and
good looking boys simply because I looked skinny and such appearance does not attract pretty girls.
Perhaps it was my constant leadership roles in all my classes that showered many of the pretty girls
with respect for me rather than personal feelings. With me supressed by my roles, I was too
respectful and lacked confidence to approach girls in this regard. Nonetheless, I eventually felt that
ichyness of attraction. Whichever way anyone would like to describe their high school romance; I’d
say the excitment, discovery and sensitivity of it is electrical as it unlocks a magical dimension that
renders everything around you void, except you and that someone special.

I found myself in number of situations that had me naturally reciprocating to attention from smart
and decent girls that showed more interest in school and church fellowships than in me. There were
three girls in particular that seriously took note of me and they remain my only count of girl friends
at High school. However, the frienship with one of them was very superficial and there was nothing
memorable left of it, accept to remember it as the initial raddar up the steps in my love life.

Towards the final quarter of grade nine, it was PM that drew close to me first and related to me in
ways that gave me courage and freedom to face female companions. She was one grade behind me.
We didnt write many notes but often found time after evening fellowships to chat. Occasionally we
would make plans to walk out of the school campus on Sundays together with selected friends for
church services at the Lutheran chapel situated at the end of the old Kerowagi airstrip. It would have
been too obvious for us to go on our own as in those days, it was uncommon for students to freely
and openly move about for too long with an opposite sex. Our friendship was of respect and support
in ways we could at school and when I learnt that she came from a reputable family line of educated
people from the Kere tribe of Sinasina in the Simbu Province compared to mine, I treated her with
honorable attitude. At some stage, we agreed to stay very focused on school work and allow the
frienship to grow at is own pace. A fun moment that has remained glued to me to this day was when
PM introduced me to her favorite pop band called the smokie and allowed me to hear her favorites
on the mini portable tape player, which were pretty popular then. Her favorite songs she got me to
listen to often was – if you think you know how to love me followed by San Francisco bay. From that
point on, I have never stopped listening to the smokie songs. Our frienship grew stronger into my
fourth and final year and as agreed we totally avoided personal distractions and stayed committed
to our school work.

However something else happened and I broke this commitment. I fell for another girl with such
attraction that it slowly drew me away from PM without realising it.. A lass of Manus Origin had just
enrolled in to school to do her grade ten and words moved about fast among boys as to who might
be the lucky guy. Her name was RPE. She had moved into the locality with her elder brother JE who
was a prison officer. He was transfered from Liagam Correctional prison in Enga to the Barawagi
correcctional setup, about 7 kilometers to the south of the school in the Province. Sitting in the
position of school captain, I’d say I saw my part differently from the other boys in the first instance.

One of my roles was to make sure students, especially new transferees did not feel lost and lonely or
not being bullied in any way and ensured that their welfare in the school campus was given
attention. My first encounter with her was during a night study roll check, something I was usually
asked to do once in a while by duty teachers. It was simply a quick word of welcome to the school of
a new comer which was pretty formal and straight forward. But what I remembered most about this
encounter was her shy smile and a hand shake. It was unsually warm in a cold place like Kerowagi
and indeed hypnotising. I did not know what went on in her, she probably would not have felt
anything but that momentous experience intrigued me to my core. I definitely felt something
different about this Manus girl. However, for the most part in the first few weeks, I did not
necessarily feel the competition as I had judged that I would not make it on her list of first ten most
admirable boys. Yet, I did not lose interest in the idea of finding out more about PRE.

My problem was that I did not possess the charms to draw girls, something some of my pals could
naturally do. I just simply continued to play my role as the School Captain and pretended many a
times not to watch her or even think about her whenever we crossed paths. This was becoming
troublesome for me which meant I had to try out an idea quickly to find out if RPE had any spec of
interest in me. I didnt want to embarrase myself if my stratgey went wrong so I had to think it out
smartly and try something that would not be obvious and, perhaps something purely academic in
nature.

I didnt explain why I was doing it but one afternoon, I simply gave my exercise book with my
assignment page in it to someone I usually call small sister in my class. I told MM to pass it onto KG,
a girl who had befriended RPE from day one and was her desk mate, to hand it over to the new girl
in her class to help complete my assignment. I would then come by and pick it during my night roll
call run. I told MM to tell GK that if she asked who it came from, she was simply to tell her that the
Captain would be busy tonight and asked for help in his assignment. I was nervous after that. The
exercise book risked been flung into the nearby fountain which would be devastating and totally
embarrasing for me or she would assist with the assignment but gave it back to me with a stern
warning not to try the stupid ‘luck’ trick again. But none of both happened that heart-beating night.
The exercise book was handed back well and neat with the assignment fully completed. When GK
handed me back my book, it was as if RPE was saying“ at your service with pleasure”.That gesture
was indeed promising and the rest as they say was history.

It could have been sign of Love tested at first sight kind of thing but our friendship grew stronger and
solid as if it was destined to be. In another twist of events we both were selected to attend the same
national high school after the 1983 national examinations. I remembered very clearly that we never
got together to discuss the idea of choosing the same national high school for our grades 11 and 12
when filling out our school leaver forms. It just happened naturally. I figured then that my promise
to PM about keeping ourself for the future would fade away soon with RPE around me for the next
two consecutive years. On the day of our departure from Kundiawa to Madang, and then the long
Talair flight to Rabaul, I sensed she had turned up at the Kundiawa airport and watch me board the
plane with RPE. She was such a humble and honest girl and kept her promise to remain faithful to
her part of the pledge but the sight of my departure with her must have been devastating as
expressed in her letters to me later.

Two years was too long and my relationship with RPE deepened and became more mutual. I learned
that PM was selected for grades 11 and 12 at Sogeri National High School after her grade 10 exams
in 1984. My last encounter with her in a school situation was in 1985 at Sogeri when I attended the
annual school Captains meetings of the four national high schools. That catchup was just a simple
chat but the aura around it was emotional as we both realised we could no longer fulfil our promise.
Sometime later PM requested for us to meet in Kundiawa weeks after I had graduated from Keravat
at the end of 1985. I was doing vacation employment at the Sika Super market and she was on
holidays after completing grade 11.

After giving me two roasted Kaukaus which she brought from her Home in front of the newly
constructed BSP buiding, she smiled and spoke up confidently. “Buddy, she always calls me that, “I
guess its over as I have heard you will be a father soon”. I was shocked as to where she got the story
from but I simply bowed my head with a sigh of guilt and feeling lost for words. Rumours had been
out in the open among school mates that RPE was expecting our baby sometime in December and
she was right. When she spoke up again after an emotional pose, she pointed me to a young man
about my age sitting some distance on a heap of rocks that were part of the BSP building landscape
and indicated to me that the person I was looking at was her new boy friend. She then said good bye
for the last time and walked away to her new sweet heart in sight.

LEADERSHIP CALL
I had since the third grade at Gon Primary school in Kundiawa to the ninth grade at Kerowagi high
school been playing classroom leadership roles but this was a big challenge. In the last quarter of the
1982 school year, I was nominated by my classmates to run for the leadership role of school captain
which I accepted and ran. I came out winner for the role although I wasnt really expecting it and
without panicking prepared to take it on as another learning curve and a level up in my leadership
roles in school. The near explusion experience from school due to my involvment in the protest
march the previous year had traumatised me to a point of complete focus on my academic work and
the results I gained at the end of year nine proved the school board did not make a mistake in its
decision to allow me to continue my school. My election to the role of school captain by the student
body impressed again the point that I had been a good role model and someone they could look up
to as their leader. Motivated enough but still nervous about the challenge, I was set and ready for
the role comes 1983.

When the academic year returned and and went into full swing, I found myself busy with extra roles
and responsibilities apart from my primary activity in school as a student. I had a good Student
Representative Council advisor in Mr Raphael Komainde who was like my mentor as well because he
had a humble and down to earth nature. He would move freely among students and had the passion
to encourage and motivate students to do well in school inorder to become productive and
contributing citisens. He played a key part in advising and directing me in my role as the leader of
other student leaders. Besides him, other staff members, especially those that took me for subjects
often found time to give me pat talks. Mr Pierce Miller, the Principal was particularly supportive with
his advises and in ensuring that I played my part well. He was always ready to do extras for students
whenever I was placed in a situation to bring requests to him. Our coordination and collaboration in
the areas of student entertainment and food rationing was propably the best.
The year 1983 had its highs and lows for me as a student leader and of course as a final year student
at Kerowagi High School. In terms of milestones as school captain, two experiences have stood out
apart from the rest.

The first was a protest action which I took to demand the mess ration room key from the staff
supervisor and held on it for a quarter of a year, almost whole of the school’s third term. It
happened that I had been disturbed for a while with my student prefects at the lack of timely release
of food rations to cooks for them to be ready in time for student meals. There had been many
occasions when we had to eat into study hours. There were times when we would still be having
breakfast and bell would go for assembly or the first lesson periods in the mornings. On some
occassions, we found that cooks were late for afternoon meals and we were made to eat into the
night study hours. This got worse one Saturday morning when we found out that the morning ration
had not been released at all. Students became rowdy and uncontrollable and when I went to the
mess supervisor’s house, we found him still sleeping. He woke after much knocking half asleep
looking pretty red in the eyes and simply handed the key over and went back to his sleep. After I got
the breakfast ration out, I reported the matter to the Principal who was very upset and told me to
keep the key until further direction. For the period that I kept the key, food timing was never an
issue and infact, at times I released more than the required amount just to give extras to students. I
reported on the stock weekly to the Principal who never asked many questions and merely issued
new purchase orders for restocking.

Hosting of the first ever school fate at the school becomes the second memorable event in my role
as school captain. The idea of school fates was not so popular then but whatever form it took was
exciting enough to attract participants from other schools and show goers from the community and
from as far as Kundiawa. The program consisted mostly of cultural groups that performed particular
dances and dramas from their areas throughout the Simbu Province. Those of us from other
provinces had our share of input into the one day event. I had to lead by example so my Eastern
Highlands group consisted of a combination of Kangal carriers and a Gasagasa group. I lead from the
front of the Kangal dancers dressed in chiefly head dress that marks the group leader from the rest
providing movement direction, singing control and ensuring dance patterns. Our singing was backed
up by our parents and relatives that came to witness the school show.

My Kangal group basically consisted mainly of boys that carried extended colorful decorations on
framed light poles and sang and danced as they moved in a certain formation. The goal of dancing
wth pole decoration was to make the colorful feathers on spring type fitings lined along the corners
on the pole flap extensions that looked like wings sway to the dancing rythms. Traditionally, stories
had it that young boys normally made sure that their feathers danced well to attract young girls. This
style of dancing is common in Goroka, Bena, Henganofi and Kainantu districts of the Eastern
Highlands Province. The dance group that followed right behind the pole carriers was the Gasagasa.
In this group, participants were heavily painted in black from messed wood charcoal making them
very black that you could only see their white eyes, red lips and white teeth when they open their
mouths to sing. They wore a full thick ring around their heap and a half ring made from banana
huskings that joins from their front to their back between their legs, with special casing sufficient
enough to house their private parts. The pattern of dancing was simply keeping in line, and when
signal is given, songs are sung and at a certain interval the dancers would shake their body moving
their heads from side to side whilst shaking the rattles in their hands.The goal of this type of dancing
was suppose to be funny when they are shaking their body with the rattling instruments and when
they move in single file, their action and stare would give scary looks to frighten off on-lookers,
especially children.
There were other Provincial groups too which included Morobe and upper highlands groups with
one in particualr from Enga. Some participants came to the fete from nearby high schools such as
Kondiu but the one that probably stole the show was from Pausa High School in the Wapenamanda
District of Enga Province. They travelled from far and when they did reach Kerowagi on that Friday, it
was a chilling cold night and the time was amost midnight. I was still up with some of our event
committee members when their singing drew us towards the northern end entrance. It the quite of
the cold night, the songs they sand with the high notes coming from their girls especially was
superbly unique and we were greatly overwhelmed by their arrival. After we gave them their hot tea
and food to eat, we divided them to the boys and girls dorms. In the dancing arena the next day,
they gave their best and it was the first time I saw a display of unique dancing that made their girls
so attractive. It was their stumping moves that drew the crowd with their boys complimenting the
girls as they provided balance.

In the true sense of it, it was very much a cultural day and it brought the urban and the surrounding
tribal communities of Kerowagi together to celebrate and be part of the fun day at the school. The
organisation of this fete was more like an open day rather than a strict fun raising event so it allowed
students and teachers to relax and mingle freely and the public poured into the school in numbers
paying a minimum fee at the gates to enjoy the cultural activities. It was trouble free and ended well
with food dishes to all participating groups and cash gifts to those that came from far to make the
day a memorable one.

In terms of experiences that didnt go down well in my books during my final high school year and in
my term as school captain, there were number of situations that still haunt my memories and two of
them feature prominently among the others.

The first happened to be an allegation against me and few other year ten students that we had
conspired and entered the girls dormitory. At a school assembly on a Monday morning in the third
term of 1983, a name list was announced of year ten boys with an equal list of girls ranging from
year eight to ten and told to report to the front of the administration building. In the first instance I
was shocked to hear my name announced as I had no clue about what this meant but I quickly put
one to one when I heard the names of two of my girl friends annouced among the list of girls.
Although the story wasnt fully reported to me as their student leader, there had been rumours on
the campus the last 48 hours before the Monday assembly that some boys had entered the girls
dormitory on either the Friday or Saturday night. It was told that they had been caught and
reported. This was the reason for the call out at the assembly but why me? And then the two girls,
what was the reason for their inclusion? I was dumb founded and angry because it left me
embarrased as the head boy of the school and also that as innocent as we were, my friendship with
these two intteligent and displined girls had been exposed in public. And that wasnt all, we had been
singled out to face the disciplinary committee for something we had no idea about.

I had to act quickly based on my instinct. I figured out fast that it would be better for two to face the
investigating committee rather then the three of us together so I had to think how to remove the
weak link. I was pretty confident that RPE would talk and defend herself confidently, and although I
did not underestimate PM’s ability to do the same, I convinced RPE for both of us to quickly see the
committee chairman or Mr Pierce Miller, the principal to see that PM was innocent and to let her go
before the questioning gets underway. When we succeed in releasing PM, we encouraged ourselves
that this was a courageous step and gave us am positive vibe that we would get over this false story.
The others it seemed had acted as a team so there was nothing I could do about that. But not
knowing the full story, I was hoping that we would defend ourselves at the disciplinary committee
level and would all go back to our classes smiling. But that wasnt to be the case.
The investigating committee was tough with its forceful, twisted and probing questions. There were
ten of us, five boys and five girls that went through the interrogations. The first nine emerged out of
the room looking and feeling confident about our answers except for one junior female student who
was the last of us. She burst out of the room crying and we all knew immediately that there was
trouble in the air. She gave into pressure due to the confusing and very aggressive line of
questioning and losing her composer and confidence, she broke the story about how her boy friend
and his friends organised to enter the girls dorm. Except for Me and RPE, the four couples were
suspended instantly pending board decision. When the School board met, it expelled them from the
school. Our case was seperate and an allegation we defended well so the committee released us but
this was no fun. It was a close call to a forceful departure from our grade ten examinations which
was due soon.

The days that followed turned into weeks and quickly the examination week was in sight. I felt lucky
that I could still sit in the examinations this particualr week but as a student leader, I had been
devastated and saddened by the expulsion of my four friends who fell short by mere weeks after
three and three quarter years of devoteness and dedication to school. This should never have
happened but did because of a slight deviation and indulgence in teenage romance that got the
better of them and short circuited their future in education. This particular incident stunned the
whole school and created all sorts of implications. The teaching staff had a very low opinion of us
and the school board in particular was blunt in its judgement and view of our ability to perform well
in our examinations. They refused to plan a graduation ceremony for us. The campus was no longer
like the home we once knew because it had suddently turned into a place of hot gossips and hatred
that it seemed as if they were counting down the days of our examinations to simply throw us out of
the gates. We didnt expect that sort of treatment but it was generally understood. We finally
packed, four classes in all of about thirty students in each class making a total of 120, left quietly
without a formal farewell. The saddest part was that a formal graduation ceremony never
eventuated to certify us as graduants of 1983. The incident had been a memory that has haunted me
ever since and not easy to forget but on the brighter note, we did pretty well in our examinations. A
very good number got placements in colleges and technical schools around the country and about
eight of us were selected to National High Schools around the country. These included Dilu Robert
Siune (late) who went to Passam, Tolly Tara, David Peter (late) and William Mondo went to Aiyura,
Robert Umba (late), Molki Mogl Mollen, Rose Pillingan Eluh and myself went to Keravat. From
previous records, it seemed we did pretty well against misconcieved notions about our intellectual
competency and ability to do the school proud.

SILENT ENFORCER
In my four challenging and at times turbulent years at High School, the person that remained
steadfast and consistant in his dream and goal to see me succeed in school was Nawavo. In his own
words ‘pinisim skul gut na kisim wok’. But the scenario that once dominated my life at primary
school in which he deliberately imposed discipline and control to keep me focus had hugely
diminished when I left home for the boarding school and he was not physically around me. Yet his
words and approach, his simplicity and humbleness in how he expressed his interest in his single
most desire pretty much became a reminder and defined my general attitude towards school. It
wasnt a kind of rule that I posted up on my cubicle walls but simply I was constantly conscious of his
struggles to have me complete my school and get a good job, the type he called bosses who have
money and car, sit in big offices, make decisions and employ people.

Being aware of Nawavo’s status in comparison to many dads of my school friends in Kundiawa town
in a way instilled the competitive edge in me to do better. His struggles as a father who left his home
province in search of good life and his determination to give us his utmost best became for me his
silent voices that pursued me on to persevere in my performances at school. Yet there had been
occasions when I almost destroyed his joy and pride in the four years at Kerowagi High School. The
1982 protest to Kundiawa and the girls dormitory allegation could have permanently shut me out of
school but I believe faith, not mine but Nawavo’s faith and constant prayers held me to the end. The
troubles that I had experienced at school never impacted him because of his lack of comprehension
and as far as he was concerned, my record at high school was unblemished. He would often boast
about my role as a school captain and that for him was the icing on a good school record. I had
matured much in the four years at high school and the higher I progressed in education and the
further I went away from Nawavo, the more I made sense of his desire and the motivations that
drove him.

His life was very much one of struggle. Nawavo lost his father when he was an infant and when his
mother remarried within the family as it was customary, he was taken care of by his maternal
relatives from the Havagabeda clan. He was born into the Foguru clan through which the tribal
leadership was kept. The Foguru name was taken after the name of our ancestor who lead and
provided leadership for the Hegetoru tribe. Nemesinawa, Foguru’s grandson became leader of the
tribe few generations later. His son Yabukala was a humble man and didnt emulate his father’s
qualities. Lafanama was the only son born to Yabukala whom he never lived to see grow but
Lafanama also took after his own father and showed a quiet and humble life as well. From Nawavo’s
tribal line, Nemesinava is my great grand father and Yabukala whom my dad Lafanama didnt know
much about was my grand father. Lafanama, my Nawavo had quiet a difficult up bringing as he had
to constantly switch sides to keep family ties. He off course grew up under the watchful eyes of his
Foguru elders but he probably didnt have a steady home and parents from whom to experience
love. His mother had remarried and had other responsibilities and when he was old enough, he
spend most of his days in the mens house with his uncles and elders. His hardships eventually turned
him into a hard working, serious and determined young man out to make his mark and prove his
worth in the tribe. I would think it was this urge and belief that took him to many places around the
country doing plantation work and eventualy landed in Kundiawa where he made it his second
home and lived many years from 1972 to 1998.

In Kundiawa, he would do just about anything he could get his hands on to sustain us. The decision
to take his small family away from his tribal home and introduce us to a life that would be different
from a village life was his big motivation. Nawavo was brought up as a village boy and he knew the
hardships on top of his grieves from lack of parental love. That combined with his experiences of the
fast emerging modern change across PNG which he believed to be a good thing, he was determined
to make us part of it. He had become aware of his own weaknesses early on as he attempted to
engage in activities, particularly jobs brought about by the wave of change sweeping across the
highlands in the late 1960s and the 1970s. He could not get a skilled job or work as support staff in
offices as he could not read or write.

Whenever Nawavo spoke about his lack of ability to read and write, he would often refer to a sad
incident that dampened his desire to get educated. He was among some young Hegetoru boys that
braved the odds to try to cross over from Lufa to Chuave. Their hugh challenge was the Tua river
which runs between Mt Elimbari and Mt Michael. He would relate that, as they approached the
traditional crossing point where a cane bridge provided the pass, the river under it was rough and
had pulled away some parts of the support on the Simbu side. The boys contemplated whether to
return home or brave it across and concluded that their mission was to cross over.

They had heard of a Misson school at Monono in Chuave run by the Lutheran church and decided to
head there for a chance to read and write. Among them, an older brother decided to take the lead
across what was remaining on the cane pass as the rest stood and watched. As he got closer to the
end, his weight on the end part tightened and pulled on the support ropes tied to the main tree. He
realised it and tried to be quick but the closer he got, the supports couldnt hold and broke off,
flunging their brother right into the fast flowing and dirty waters. He however managed to hold
firmly on the ropes and canes still held by the support from where Nawavo and the rest were
standing. They couldnt jump in and swim out to help their brother in the rough water and their only
hope was to carefully pull to their side the single cane pass that was now partially floating with their
brother holding tight at his end. Their pull was against the natural current and they were soon over
powered by the river force as they also watched their brother became weak and finally lost his grip.
He went down and remerged only once with a forceful fly of his hand in the air waving goodbye. The
dangerous and deep gorges made it difficult for the remaining team to follow down stream to rescue
him. They returned home sad and devasted at the loss of their brother. Nawavo would reflect on
this vivid memory at times to make a point that this incident shattered their only hope to get a
chance to go to a school and in rememberance of their tribesman, they choose not to think of school
any more.

The opportunity for him to get some form of education was permanently gone but he saw hope in
his two boys. When he returned from his last plantation work in Rabaul in 1969, I was already a
three year old boy running around. By the time he visited us again at the village to pick us, Movai my
young sibling was a crawling baby. He could no longer leave us alone and decided it was time to
settle down with his young family in his new found town of Kundiawa. All the conditions were right
for him in this place to give us attention and although he had short comings, he had committed to
put up for his family. He took any job that could earn him some form of money. That was why he
took any manual job that came by from grass cutting and drain work to cleaning jobs. His
commitment and faith somehow took him to heights he could never imagine. By 1981, he had left
odd jobs and ended up in a trades division of the PWD in Kundiawa. He was offered and engaged to
work as an aide to the plumbers and welders. At this point, I was doing my grade eight and felt
proud to refer to him as a plumber or welder whenever asked by friends and teachers. But by the
time I completed high school in 1983, he had been laid off the job as an effect of a retrenchment
exercise carried out by the government.

If there was something he impressed on me greatly, it was that Nawavo demonstrated time and gain
that he was proud of his origin and tribal values. He never hesitated to send us to the village every
second year. On few occasions whenever he took leaves, we would travel together but he was
always conscious of costs and small things that mattered most for our survival in Kundiawa and as I
grew older, his travels with us to the village became infrequent. To make us happy and even to give
us a taste of modern adventure, I remembered a time in 1976 when he took us on our first plane
flight to Goroka on a small Talair plane. That was a big show for a father who struggles to make ends
meet but this fatherly gesture has left in me a lasting memory of his deep love for us. In the village
on our holidays, he would always require us to spend equal time with his clan and mums clan. He
would particularly expect me to spent time with the village elders and listen to our tribal history. Our
story had always thrilled me because it showed how complex the Hegetoru tribe was and what
made our enemy and neighbouring tribes form alliances and targeted, fought and scattered us all
over Lufa and Eastern Highlands Province. Going to the village gave me the chance to continue to
practise my vernacular and traditional songs and more importantly, the opportunity to see and to
talk with tribal elders before they passed on. These experiences gave me some profound
appreciation in the essence of being a member of a tribal people and what a remarkable feeling it is.
Nawavo wanted us to experience and be part of the new world but he also valued and respected
what he got out from his roots, the culture and values of the Hegetoru people and wanted to ensure
we were grounded in these roots as well.
BARIKE EXPERIENCE CHAPTER 9

Over Bismack Sea

It was my first time to see the sea and because it was a fine and beautiful day, everything below and
above was crystal clear as we headed for Rabaul over the Bismark Sea from Madang, continuing on
in the same plane we boarded in Kundiawa. We had the choice of getting on an Air Niugini plane but
we didnt want the hussle of carrying over our baggages. This was in the last week of January 1984.
The stretch of the ocean was just too much for me to comprehend and sitting in the air on a machine
I was not so used to was scary enough. Here I was on my own without relatives travelling to a distant
land that I had no clue of except the knowledge about it from classrooms and from Nawavo who has
had a life experience of living in East New Britain. Every time the plane shook or dropped in air
pockets, I couldnt hold back the thoughts of my family back in the four corner town and what would
become of me if something went wrong and we fell into the vast sea. The only comforting thought I
had in the plane was that I had three other school mates on the same mission and if something
happened, one of us might survive to tell the story.

There was Pillingan Rose Eluh in the seat next to me on the right side of the plane in the second row.
I was in the window seat, an arrangement I worked out with Rose as we took our seats so I could
have a better view of the things from above. However, my level of confidence was so low that I kept
my eyes closed most of the time. Sitting quietly somewhere at our back were Molki Mogl Mollen and
Robert Umba. I could not be too sure but like me, the plane experience might have been their first
too so similar ideas may have occupied their mind. And in some case for Robert perhaps, as a son of
a policeman and living in Western Highlands Province might have had experiences of travelling and
may be relaxed on this flight. He had only transfered to Kerowagi High School to complete his year
ten with us. Molki would be definitely in the same boat with me as he had lived most of his life in
Gembogl where he originated from and this was his first experience. Rose, however was the most
confident and relaxed among us. She had lived in Port Moresby and then in Liagam,Enga Province
before joining us at KHS. Hailing from Pundru village in the Kari area of inland Manus, she obvioulsy
had many travelling expereinces. Thinking about that on the plane, I thought I was lucky to have her
sit next to me. I got many tips to enjoy the flight but as the plane cruised off at a higher alttitude, the
pressure in my ears turned into sharp pains. She gave me gums to help keep my jaws moving inorder
to distract the pain and reduce pressure but what helped most was her closeness to me and
constant communication.

Matupit & Tavuvur

We had been flying for sometime and at the extreme point of tolerating the pain in my ears and my
deperate lack of patience for what seemed an unending flight, there was a sudden drop. This forced
me to open my eyes in shock only to be greeted by the sight of Simpson harbour and Mt Matupit
with its belching smoke very visible below, a familiar sight I had seen may times over in pictures. I
breathed a sigh of relieve knowing we had finally reached Rabaul safely. Yet the pain in both my
ears was too much that I was in a begging state of mind for the plane to land at its fastest. The plane
cruised in on the landing mode from the Simpson bay, almost touching the sea and landed at the
other end facing the geet harbour just below Mt Tavuvur. As I stepped out and walked along the
tamack to the terminal at Rabaul airport, the excitment in the new place, the actual sight of the
matupit top looking down on me and the afternoon heat typically showered by the sweet frangipani
air quickly drowned the pain as the stress on my face turned to wide smiles. The four of us were full
of joy as we shook hands and hugged each other at having made it from Kerowagi to Rabaul, the
destination of our next level of school.

In those times, getting selected to do grades 11 and 12 at the four national high schools was a
privilege available only to a few throughout the country. We couldnt be more happier then at
appreciating this -milestone, and our faces expressed it all at Rabaul airport. It was obvious too we
were not the only ones arriving for this purpose as we also saw the same excitment on the faces of
young people like us that congregated outside the terminal waiting for transportation as advised in
our offer letters.

For me, this milestone also meant a departure from my home, family and culture. Couple of hours
earlier I was standing among my emotional family members in Kundiawa. At Rabaul airport this time,
the atmosphere, the feeling, and the environment with its few locals standing around were new and
different. I have left my place of comfort and now standing in a strange new environment. My own
three friends and the other young people standing around must have been thinking the same as
they all have left their families too. I remembered feeling a bit emotional as I thought of my mum
and Dad. Their notion of school for me was in places close to them. My departure to a distant place
was a shock for my mother especially because simply she had no comprehension of the breath and
lenght of PNG. Nawavo must have been happy that I was succeeding in school as it was his dream
but he must have worried about my safety like any father would and might have thought hard about
whether the decision for me to go far was a good one.

Yet this was a special time in history where the country was in short supply of its own professionals
and specialists to charter the course for the new Independent state of PNG. It was only eight years
ago that PNG gained its Independence in 1975 and there was great need for local workforce, both
professional and technical, as well as managers. The four national high schools were strategic and
ideal to serve that purpose. Keravat National High was a school set in the New Guinea Islands region
and our batch like those that had come before us and ones that would follow in the future, were
part of a deliberate government intention. I was one such selected for this premium program and
leaving home was a necessary part of the education process and preparation to serve the country. At
Rabaul airport this particular day, it was the excitement in the place and new young faces like
ourselves that drew our attention more than the thoughts of missing home and of what and why we
were here. When we were finally signaled to board the school trucks, it brought relieve as I was
already feeling uncomfortable from the sweat that was steaming out from my body. As we boarded
our truck, I observed that trucks and buses from other institutions such as Kabaleo teachers
college,Vudal Agriculrure college and Malaguna technical school were parked and picking their
students as well proving the point that East New Britain Province was the hub of good educational
institutions.

Anastasia the driver

When Anastasia got into the drivers seat of the school truck, most of us got some form of reaction.
In the last hour or so, she had been moving in and out of the terminal ushering us to the school
truck, making us feel welcome and and comfortable among ourselves as we were all new. Most of us
mistook her for a teaching or admin staff. When she got into the cabin and turned on the ignition of
the school truck after making the final checke around the truck to ensure that we were all sitted
properly, it was apparent she was the driver. I felt unsual and uncomfortable in that a woman was
behind the steering wheel of this big truck. It was obvious we all were having the same thought
basically because most of us had never seen a woman drove big trucks. That was unheard of in areas
that some of us came from at this point of time in history and only knew it to be a man’s skill.

As we left the Terminal area, we were immediately greeted by the Rabaul golf course to the left.
Soon we found ourselve in the reknown town of Rabaul and Anastasia drove through it, going in and
out of Mango and Casurina avenues, the two popular streets. She took the routes of the popular
spots in town such as the simpson harbour, the china town, Rabaul Yacht Club, CHM studios in
Kuvanua street, the sight of the great Namanulai hill passing by the Queen Elisabeth Park, and
eventually coming out infront of the popular Rabaul Market situated along the Malaguna road. She
finally took this straight road as we headed out towards the junction parting with tunnel hills road
to the right that passes Nonga base Hospital and a little further on converts into the North Coast
road. The truck kept on the left lane after the junction and proceeded along the Kokopo highway.

One experience we all registered immediately along this road was the strong scent of copra
processing by the company at a location we came to popularly refer to as CPL. We were now
heading out to our destination at Keravat but Rabaul itself impressed me greatly and the sight of it
was exciting. I had never seen an organised town such as this in my life and Rabaul being my first
major sighting outside of my little Kundiawa was difinitely breath taking and beautiful. However, my
enjoyment of the new sights along the way was constantly distracted by the humid air and the
unusual high temperature that did nothing better than drain out whatever liquid my skinny body
contained. I felt sweat gushing out from all over my body like nobody’s business but I had to quickly
accept that this was the nature of environment I had come to live in and study and would have to
accept such fate for the two years. ( insert names of popular places along the road to keravat)

Keravat – First Impression, first contact

As if she knew what many of us on the truck were thinking of her in the drivers seat, Anastasia drove
with extra speed to prove how good she was and perhaps, she did that to draw our confidence in
her driving. Such happened to be an attitude she had come to tolerate over the years she had been
driving for the school and had pretty much mastered an unspoken way of winning confidence. The
mountain range we had been manuevoring through soon ended at a valley and it wasnt long before
we were greeted by the first signs of the little township of Keravat. First the Super market to our
right and just a little on at the left appeared the sight of a small market with vendors and customers
doing the usual buy and sell activity in the cool of the afternoon it seemed. We soon came to knew
this place as Tavakikil. A minor curve from here led us passed a small culvet bridge and immediately
a cluster of blue buildings appeared infront very clearly marking out the Keravat police station and
its cells. To our right as we approach the police setup was the stretch of the public sporting ground.
It seemed we were going to drive further as no apparent feature this far marked out what was
suppose to be our school and destination. The thick forest covered mountains and vegestation in the
surrounding environment obscured my direction and created an impression that we still had some
more driving to do. My thoughts abruptly came to halt as Anastasia hit on the break and made a
sharp left turn. My collegues sitting along the drivers side concurrently shouted out in excitment. “
yes we are here, see the sign” It read – Welcome to Keravat National High School, and under what
looked like a logo of a bird was written ‘Tuum Est’. It must have been about 3pm and the cool forest
breese that greeted and welcomed us into the school campus and the grey sky indicated rain was
near.

Situated in the back drop of a thick forest vegestation with the campus littered with frangipani trees,
mango and laulau trees in between the classrooms and somewhere near the girls dormitories the
famous ‘Banana Patch,’ Keravat National High School modelled ahead of time it seemed, as a green
school, an environment conscious institution. I felt attracted to the setting quiet easily because I
connect naturally to bush environments. It seemed, that influence came from my childhood days in
my tribal forests back home in Lufa. Anastasia gave us a quick impression of our campus by driving
right through the school ending at the girls dormitories and eventually dropped us off at the
administration building. I figured out quickly that the admin block was more close to the boys
dormitories than that of girls as I initially mapped it out mentaly.

Looking out from the campus entrance, the boys domitories were lined up to the left surrounded by
open spaces and playing fields. The immediate thick bushes at the back acted as a natural barrier for
intruders. Along the right side of the drive way from the entrance, three buildings stood out. First a
fancy building with striking architechural design which we came to know as our lecture hall. The
second was the biology lab and sitting a little infront next to it was the third building we came to use
as our physics laboratory. What made this lab memorable among us boys taking science major was
Miss Jelfs, a white female in her mid thirties. We would marvel at her attractiveness more than her
lessons. At a curve at almost a 90 degrees turn on the drive way puts the physics lab and the Admin
block on either side and the road ran through the middle with the view of the Mess building right
ahead.

Between the Mess hall and the Admin building to the left of the drive way, stood one vital building –
the school library. Almost adjacent to the admin block, this new building stood very prominent
among three old and overused double classrooms. Immediately to the left of these buildings was a
sloppy hill full of trees and vegetation that led to the crest on which the School placed its southern
Cross tank. A ground cubicle room under one of the three classroom buildings just before the mess
hall performed an important role as a communication hub. Apart from writing letters, this public
telephone booth had one land phone line for students to communicate with relatives. It was often a
privilege to book calls or set times to recieve calls and to wait hours in line for your turn. You get so
much joy and satisfaction out from just been able to hear from your family members. It was
particularly comforting for those of us from regions outside of NGI such as Momase, Highlands and
Southern. In my entire two years, I was lucky to recieve and book some calls with Nawavo in
Kundiawa town. Not every one was able to enjoy such as most parents obviously lived in villages in
that period.

The two large buildings on the campus were the lecture and the Mess halls with the latter been a bit
slightly wider. It could sit and feed at the most 500 people at any one time. Along the elevation at
the back of the mess, number of staff houses built in different styles and shapes stood watch over
the campus and the girls dormitories. The setup of the campus was obviously security conscious of
the girls living quarters as observed. These dormitories were placed in such a way that you could see
what was happening around the dorms from the basketball courts near the entrance of the mess
hall and again from the big field which runs from the edge of the courts to the side of the first
domitory. An unforgetable feature on the campus was the school canteen operated by the Student
Representative Council (SRC) which was located a few steps across the road from the court. Looking
ahead from this point to the girls dorms and following the drive way that led to it, another cluster of
senior staff houses lined the opposite side of the field to the right, again purposely situated to watch
over movements near the dorms.

Nevertheless this didnt stop love bonding among boys and girls. It didnt take long for every new
student to notice that this street between the canteen, the field, the staff houses and the girls dorms
carried a label too popular for any one to simply forget. That street was often refered to as the
lover’s lane which would be visibly covered with scores of love birds in pairs after every night study
and on weekends until the bed time bell signals. In some respects, this became courting grounds for
potential couples for future life. I should add also that not far from here at the back of the staff
houses was the popular banana patch. The school did grow bananas but the patch was also secretly
exploited as a lovers nest for the few who couldnt contain the steaming desire and took risks to
cross the line. In actual fact many such relationships were exposed and severely disciplined with
some extreme cases of explusion.

Keravat National High School impressed on me as a beautiful and simple campus which was geared
to conveniently serve its purpose. You could walk through it once and memorise the setting without
difficulty. So far I have been memorising the setting of the campus as it was in 1984 standing in front
of the office building looking towards the mess hall and the girls dorms in the background. To
complete the picture of the campus, I would for once move position to the front of the school
canteen and this time give my back to the mess. All the buildings that appear in front comprised the
remaining two thirds of the schools academic rooms. Including the three classrooms standing in line
with the Library, now sitting at my right from my position at the canteen, eight further double
classrooms form the cluster of buildings not positioned in any particular order.

In front and a few steps from the Lecture hall, a nice white double storey buidling sat. That was the
Expressive arts rooms and studios. I could without much thought relate this building quickly to Mr
Bruce Sowter. An Australian by birth, he was popularly regarded for his personal involvement in
Athletes apart from his leadership in the Expressive Arts department. His efforts consequently
resulted in producing one of the greats in athletes for the country. That was Takale Tuna who was a
year ahead of my group and went on to win medals, gold in 100m and silver in 200m at the 1991
South pacific games apart from other records. In the same department and specialised in Music, I
remember well Mr Haihavu Harevahape because of his unique Gulf Province name. In close
proximity to the E. Arts building near its front was a yard with building for maintenance purposes
and an office inside that the station Manager used. Mr Akai Kopuri who hailed from Western
Highlands Province had the mamoth job of managing the upkeep of the Campus. He was popular
among the male students for his involvement in promoting rugby league. Those of us that showed
interest in this game were used as a feeder team by the Rabaul Tigers club. Loooking ahead straight
and left from the E. Arts doorway, classrooms appearing immediately ahead were used for social
sciences, history and geography subjects. The Chemistry building was situated in the front of the
Physics lab but pretty much in the center of the surrounding classrooms. For maths lessons, teachers
either came to our home rooms or students moved to their classrooms for lessons. In total, about
twelve buildings with double classroom each served as teaching rooms apart from the library
building.

I was overwhelmed and stunned immediately by the vastness of the campus on the first day after
Anastasia gave us a quick tour and dropped us off at the Administration building. I might have been
the only one seeing things this way because of my simple and humble setting back in Kundiawa.
”This was it, my home for two years starting this moment” I told myself to quickly asset my
presence. Strange and uncertain as it seemed, a feeling usually associated with new place and
environment, we all tried to put on brave faces and looked as friendly and polite as we could in the
process of picking up our lagguages and moving to secured positions near the office. It seemed many
of us had someone to talk to with confidence because we either came from the same school or
town. I had three friends from the same school which made us a formiable team. As I had been their
leader in our past school, Rose, Mollen and Robert naturally expected me to provide that for them.

Soon the grey clouds we saw earlier on our entry into the school began to burst into rain without
warning and we all stumbled about to find shelter. I quickly led my group with our small pack of
lagauages each in our hands to the verender of the office building. The varender in the front lenght
of the low built house had two short steps on either ends for entry into the offices which made it
accessible for many of us to crump up on to it away from the rain. Many others ran to find shelter in
the nearby classrooms. It must have been about 4.30pm when the rains came and we had been
waiting for registration and direction to our dormitories. It was as if the Keravat nature wanted to
welcome us and it only rained for about twenty minutes but it poured like buckets full. I came to
know later that I had come to attend school in an area that had some of the highest rainfalls in the
country. However, the immediate difference I realised hiding away from this first rain was that the
air was still steaming hot unlike such rains in the highlands that would make you shiver to your
bones and the mosquito bites that I could hardly resist was my second bigger problem.

Looking out from the varender to the open skies as it rained, I couldnt help but wondered back to
my poor mum. I knew she would be the most affected and perhaps she was thinking about me and
sitting under the banana trees somewhere in her garden crying. She was a women with tears near
her eye lids and always greets me with tears whenever I returned home or when she was seeing me
off somewhere, even for a short period. I was sure she wouldnt have comprehended the distance of
my destination when I departed this very morning at Kundiawa airport seeing her with tears
streaming from her eyes, but just the mere fact about not knowing where I was headed would have
been enough to hurt her deeply. Nawavo been an introvert person would often contain his feelings.
Whenever something troubles him, he would walk off into the gardens and work on his bananas or
sugar canes. I wondered too standing there in Keravat just how much he might have missed me. It
had always been his desire for me to do well in school so my deaprture to a bigger school may have
been his happiest moment but he might have been hurting too as a dad.

I was carried away in my thoughts for my family back home when someone suddenly touched my
arm from the among those standing. I turned and looked straight into the eyes of a Tolai boy who
returned my stunned look with a smile. “ Hello, my name is David”, he introduced him self. I
reciprocated with a smile and my name to him. He asked where I came from and I said I came from
Simbu. He said he was a local from Matupit, the volcanic area in Rabaul. Seeing looks of hunger on
me, he opened his Tolai basket and held out a Singapore Taro to me which I accepted gladly. I was
just starting a friendship but before we could chat further, we were all signalled to line up for
registration as the rains had eased up.

First Night in Keravat

After we finally got our names checked out in the registration process, we were then ushered to our
dorms. Rose went her way to the girls dorms and the three of us, Mollen, Robert and myself
followed the duty teacher with some other male students to our allocated dormitories. Our names
were marked out in different dormitories which in a way signified the departure from our selves as
Simbus and Highlanders to the broader national bonding. We were brought in from all over Papua
New Guinea and the sudden confrontation of new faces around you in your dormitory and the
mental process of acceptance and adjustment to them in the new school environment was a handful
to take. Nevetheless, adaptation to new realities, friendships and relationships naturally carve out
and in time you forget the initial indifferences. That might have been a bit tough for introvets, the
quiet and silent characters who found their way around slowly but soon settled in. For talkers and
outward characters like myself, the adjustment was fast. It didnt take effort for me to get around to
greet others and introduce myself to them.

We all had just started the journey of making ourselve at home in this dormitory and finding our
own comfort among each other who came for the same reason. We were infact the cream of our
high schools and selected purposely to be educated and groomed in this institution for national
responsibilities. I was there among the group of privileged young Papua New Guineans who were
destined to become the backbone of nation building. Having been a leader in my former school, my
natural charisma and leadership experience came handy in such situations of team or group
bonding. I got about doing my bit to ensure we settled well in our dormitory after the nerve
wrecking day of travel and for the first night at our new campus.

Two problems for me though, on this first night and the first couple of weeks. I had issues with
mosquitos and the humid temperatures of East New Britain. I lost count of how many times I had
rushed to the shower block on this first day to wash off my sweat and to cool off. But, it was the
sleeps that momentarily gave me some relieve over the mosquitos and the humid air body reactions.

As I tried to shut my body system off for sleep, the compounded effect of mosquito bites and the
evening tropical temperature kept my mind awake. In such situation and away from home for the
first time, it was difficult for me not to treasure my family deep in my thoughts, and especially
Nawavo for his relentlessness. This Hegetoru man from remote Lufa landed in Kundiawa in 1970 and
felt in love with the Simbu environment and culture for two key reasons. He saw opportunities to
earn money to make life meaningful for his young family and secondly, he reasoned it out early on
that the embracing environment for change created by the local people attracted his attention
positively enough to settle and raise his family. This morning at Kundiawa airport, Navawo must have
been a proud man. He shed tears too on my departure but that would have been his tears of joy.

The plane I was hoping on would land me in another bigger high school, a level higher than Kerowagi
high school. When I explained my offer to him about this school at the time I recieved it, his
excitment turned to confusion. He may have been thinking of college, job or university. My clansman
Uvevira Mark and our friend Foggy Kobege both had recieved offers from colleges, Dauli Teachers
college and Bomana Police College respectively. He could reason with that but another high school
was a little too much for him to take. He was thinking of the pain of school fees, I had thought.
Further, he was in that state of mind because none from our remote Lufa had been to a National
High school or a University to give him some idea of what this was all about and if there had been
any body, he had no knowledge. But I eventually convinced him to accept that this level was a
stepping stone to the bigger schools and Universities.

He seemed satisfied than but as I fell deep into sleep this night, I remembered well his brightened
face. I wondered if it was because of my explanation about the National High School or his
conclusions about University, office job with big pay packet and a better life as compared to his.
‘Yes’, I affirmed in my conclusion as sleep took better of me “I would finish my two years at Keravat,
go to a University and get a good job that would make Nawavo happy and satisfied. This would make
his dream and goal of settling in Kundiawa complete”.

Induction Day

When the Principal, Mr Lionel Melville called us to attention in the Lecture Hall that Monday
Morning, it was full to capacity. I was one among almost 700 students and I couldnt tell yet who was
who, who was a new intake and who were the senior students accept for those that I had met in the
last 48 hours and the ones that came with me from the same school. As Mr Melville began to speak,
I could see more and more teachers fronting up and moving closer to hear the welcome speech.
What intrigued me most was the number of expatriate teachers. It was very obvious that there were
more expatriate teachers than the nationals who were a mere handful. That immediately gave me a
kind of stirrring that the school was truely different and we had to be among the bests to have come
to this insitution. It was unique that we would be taught by a big group of highly qualified expatriate
teachers who had been purposely selected from across the globe and send to this school.

Whilst my ears were on Mr Melville, my thoughts were at work trying to figure out the nationalities
of the expatriates appearing up in front, something I wasnt capable off doing at this point but I was
definitely indulged in my own guesing. Recognising features of different races and origins would
definitely come in time through interaction and experiences of understanding them and making
sense with their accents. My experience at high school with the Canadians, Australians and the
British teachers was still insufficient for me to draw any conclusions about the origins of the white
teachers that had congregated in front. The ones I could easily pinpoint were the dark skinned men
and women who could either be from India or Sri Lanka. My mind was soon put at ease when the
Deputy Principal took over after the welcome speech to Introduce the teachers. The majority were
white and they inluded; Principal - Lionel Melville,(Ireland) Deputy Principal - Jim Carter,(Britain) Mr
Kevin Tyro,(Britain) Mr John Fish (Britain), Mr Baggs (Canada), Mr and Mrs Tibeths (Britain), Miss
Jelfs,(Ireland) Mr and Mrs Keatings (Australia) Miss Rose Chue, (Britain) Mr Thiagarajh (Sri Lanka),
Mr/ Mrs Rajan singhan (Sri Lanka), Mr Bruce Sowter (Australia), Sist Cynthia (Australia), Mrs
Saunders (Australia), Mr Tonti (Australia), Mr Kaleh (PNG), Mr Haihavu (PNG), Mr Ah (PNG), Mr
Onagi (PNG).

In his welcome address, Mr Melville made some very compelling remarks to the new intakes about
our selection and the desired expectation on the school to deliver a succeessful outcome for the
nation. One statement that still rings a bell in me was about the brains that PNG needed in the
professional and techinical fields as well as management levels to drive the wheel of change and that
it was going to take that generation of Papua New Guineans, those of us sitting right there in the
lecture hall to make the dreams of Independence come to fruition. I personally felt very moved by
Mr Melvilles statements. He concluded with an observation that the 1984 intakes would be
celebrating the 10th PNG Independence Anniversary on the campus comes 1985. After the welcome
speech and introductions, the duty teacher finally read out the grade 11 class lists and pointed out
from the front our class patrons. We were eight classes in all, going from class A to Class H. I was put
in class 11B and Mrs Janice Tibeths was announced as our Class Patron. My team from Kerowagi
High School was now scattered. Rose went to Class 11G and Robert went to Class 11C while Molki
was given class 11F. Lead by the respective class patrons, each pack of class followed behind to the
allocated classrooms to acquaint ourselves.

The Class of 11B

Whilst walking over to our marked classroom, I quickly looked around to see if there was someone
from my region or one I had met in the last few days. I picked out one very quickly and remembered
his name. He was David, the Tolai lad whom I met at the admin office on the first day during the rain.
We greeted each other again and agreed to settle in the same desk. It was obvious the majority in
11B were all from the coastal region. When the class patron went through the names again getting
each one of us to introduce ourselves, one name sounded familiar. Edward Apa Topiso introduced
himself as been from both Simbu and Eastern Highlands. I felt comfortable that I had a brother from
my region. When it came to David, he introduced his full name as David Kavanamur. He said he was
from Matupit Island but grew up in West New Britain. The rest of us introduced ourselves in the
same manner and from memory the 11B class of 1984 consisted; Tau Gima, Morehari Avosa, David
Kavanamur, Edward Appa Topiso, Linda Apita, Yaluwin Ninda, Nou Manoka, Peti Lafanama, Monica
Peter, Sega Guba, Dorothy Sigamata, Marakan Uvano, Alfred Druwen, Oma Naragi, Unuga, Blaise
Ragi, Livingston,Gabrial Kondiak, Gordon Holiong, This was the composition of my class and like
other classes we came from all over the country; from Sepik to Samarai, Bougainville to Manus,
Morobe to Hagen and Goroka, Rabaul to Daru, Kerema and Simbu, and Engan to Madang into one
melting pot of tribal and enthnic representatives. But we were a generation destined to blend into
one national identity that would get out there and drive our young nation forward. I was privileged
to be in this group.

That was how my next phase of school life began. We had other groupings to be involved with such
as church denominations and regional groups but individually I was stuck with my class mates day in
day out on the Keravat campus. Our class became our family, clan and tribe away from home for the
two years. With our little cheerful and humorous Janice Tibeths as Patron, our class had something
to look forward to each new day. She always treats us to some interesting global happenings each
start of day and made sure we kept within school rules and regulations and stayed committed to our
academic work. She made it her business to stay interested in each one of us in order to keep the
cohesion of our class. It was not easy in the start to enjoy and stay attracted to their company but as
we began to open up and broke the cultural and ethnic barriers that came with us from our
Provinces, 11B emerged a knitted bunch of fun loving and caring group.
 A little after the start of school, like all grade 11 classes, we were required to elect a class captain. I
wasnt expecting it but someone nominated me and at the end of the voting, I ended up been
selected the class captain. The call for this selection was at short notice and none of my class mates
knew of my past roles and responsibilites but somehow they naturally found comfort in marking me
out as their mouth piece. I gladly accepted it as it was a role I knew by heart many times over and
worked hand in hand with Mrs Tiberths whenever required to keep our class together as a good
unit. This responsibility eventually became my stepping stone for the bigger role of School captain in
1985.

With a clear responsibility to my class as their leader, I observed activities in school with critical eyes.
I could easily pick out that the School management was capably on top of things with superb
leadership and vision from Mr Melvile and Mr Carter giving him the best supportive management
combination as his deputy. I had been through and seen management issues ended up in serious
conflicts at my last school so my perspective was sharp and pretty judicious about things done in the
school. From the outset, the potential of conflicts between National and Expatriate staff members in
so far as positions and leadership were concerned was non- existent. This was pretty simple. The
majority of our staff members were expatriates and the few privileged national teachers we had
were pretty much interested in the excitement of teaching in a classified institution and to gain
further experience by working together with their overseas counter-parts. It seemed to me than that
the School Board was genuinely serious about the school achieving its goal of graduating good
products as was obvious in the consistency of their meetings. They normally met in the Schools
library and their presence was often annouced to the school body. With Mr Melvile at the helm,
cooperating to uphold work code and standard among the staff themselves and us with them was at
its best. It was a good thing that everyone lived together on the same campus as teachers had no
issuess with always making extra hours available to concerns students in regards to daily lessons.

Apart from the academic activities we were duty bound to, we had work programs to keep the
school environment clean and beautiful. I had a part to play been a member of the SRC representing
my class. In year 12 I had a small cleaning group called KKT (Keep Keravat Tidy) which prowls the
campus buildings for graffiti. Sporting was a key part of the schools program and we were always
encouraged to be involved and we had some competitions that were organised and played between
regions. Social and cultural activities found their way in between the academic and formal school
programs, especially on national holidays such as the Independence day on 16 September. Weekend
entertainments varied fron cultutral nights to movie screening and school dances. On one occasion
we had a privilege visit from the popular Australian Aboriginal band called Yotu Yindi that
entertained us with few of their popular numbers. The attitutde and behaivor among students and
teachers were totally mutual and benefiting. There were no serious issues of conflcits and fights
among us or with teachers and our rapport with the nearby communities was excellent. Complaints
about food in the mess were a common occurance but they were amicably settled. Such was the
tradition left by past students and our 84/85 group observed and maintained that. The order and
control that eminated from the selfless and committed administration ran right through to the
leadership upheld by the Student Representative Council (SRC), regional group leaders and church
denomination leaders. We were all steadfast in our desire to keep Kenaths a peaceful and academic
focused campus and when our turn came to leave, we left the school proud of having been part of
such an incredible learning institution.

As it happens in all busy environments, I was consumed in school and its daily programs that I forgot
how quickly the school year of 1984 had moved. In terms of course direction, I had chosen the
science path in which case my subjects were Chemistry, Physics, Biology, Maths and English. I
thought my personal nature and character was more inclined towards the fields of social sciences
and humanities but it must have been the whisper I heard at High School that pretty much
influenced my decision when I reached Keravat. The idea of becoming a medical doctor was
seriously on my mind and took center stage when I decided on my course path. At this point I wasn’t
sure as to whether that really was to be my life path but I gave my best and enjoyed my classes.
With a preconceived interest in the medical field, I obviously enjoyed the biology and Chemistry
classes more and loved maths and physics for the sake of their challenges and the formulars that
made calculations interesting. I also viewed chemistry as a fascinating subject because of the kinds
of cracy experiments we went about doing and the assignments and readings we had to undertake.
Combining all, I considered myself a Science major student destined for the Science faculty at UPNG
after grade 12, but this I knew would depend on my academic performance. That I had kept firmly in
head because gaining space at university was pretty competitive too.

Staying true to my christian up-bringing and the core values of my Lutheran faith was a practice I
tried not to faulter or waiver in the two years at Keravat. By keeping the tradition of Sunday
worships, campus fellowship nights with Lutheran students and at other times with the Scripture
Union meetings grounded me in the kind of balance I needed. Nawavo had reminded me, “initaisa
wana e naheme isaoate, monoaina meta – aieawane” at the point of my departure in Kundiawa. He
had told me in our Hegetoru lingo not to forget God and not to leave church activities. He had
trusted God in all he did including keeping us in school and taught us that, trusting God was
something exceptional and extraordinary things not seen by the naked eyes occur to keep us moving
on in all circumstances of life. As it was, Life was difficult most times for Nawavo but he lived on and
never complaint. As children we never experienced his discomforts because he only played out his
joys in the open. But when I exited from his domain, I began to experience the reality. Nawavo lived
a real life with many short-comings and could not always send me money or get me the kind of
things that I see others in my generation had. I realised qucikly then that I could never be part of
those category of student groups that kept their class and drew attention because they appeared to
have it all. In a graceful way, I accepted my fate knowing I was only my father’s son and my social
and economic status resulted from his social roots . When such realisation sinks in, you needed
humbleness to experience peace and that doesnt come from our physical realm. Navawo was right
about living in God’s presence. That helped me keep my focus on school which was my primary
reason for coming to Keravat and my duties as class captain of 11B was something special that
helped me keep my self esteem above most others.

The ambiance of cooperation and reverence among the senior and junior students was extremely
mutual for us in 1984. The regional groupings allowed us to meet and relate to senior students from
our respective regions and at times, certain sporting competitions were organised among the
various groups and was always enjoyed in the spirit of good sports. We even went out on picnics or
sight seeing trips together in these groups.

The Highlands regional group was called HUF, short for Highlands United Front. I remembered
clearly a time when the HUF group travelled out for a picnic to the George Brown beach along the
North Coast road outside of Keravat. I was scared of the sea but deep inside I was reluctant to tell
my friends that I could not swim and never admitted to anyone that day or any other day until I left
Keravat. Everytime I ventured near the sea, I would simply play in the shallows or took a simple dive
or so to make my friends believe I could do what ever they were doing. My class of 11B probably
never noticed that too when we went out on our class picnics.

When it came to the composition of regional grouping, New Guinea Island Region had the biggest
number. I believe the obvious reason for this was the location of the school. Within the NGI group,
they could organise into Provincial groups because they had sufficient numbers. For instance, the
Manus students had their Provincial group and could organise for traditional dances easily for special
occasions. There were adequate activities to keep us busy in our various groups, whether in class,
Province or Region. Such organisation kept the cohesiveness of the student body during non-
academic hours. Overall, this created an environment where students were either busy in academic
activities or in combined extra-curricular actvities, which left no vaccum for unwanted social, ethnic
or sect gatherings that would distract and derail our focus.

I must say proudly that the two years at Keravat were the best and most enjoyable part of my life. It
was there that gave me and others the sense of been Papua New Guineans because we all respected
our association with each other and the bonding which unified us. Perhaps like Aiyura, Passam and
Sogeri National High Schools, Keravat was one such other place where the spirit of national identity
and unity proclaimed in the visions of our forefathers formed and manisfested in us. These schools
gave form and shape to the ideal of a single nation of thousand tribes and gave meaning to the
essence of our political Independence.

There was something else that was unique and special about my time at the Keravat school campus.
It was the blend of international flavor in the academic discourse discharged by the overseas
teachers and the respect that immediately resulted from the engagements between students and
teachers of varying cultures. Lectures and lesson contents were delivered with certain quality and
standard that captured our interests and motivation to want more and it appeared learning was
made simpler by their methods. Coming from the developed world, these teachers helped
broadened our perspectives by sometimes taking our minds beyond the settings of the PNG school
curriculum. They helped us see issues from their mindset and background inorder to press home
particular lesson points. The year 1984 was a time when PNG was still in its infancy with dreams of
advancing to modernise and our expatriate teachers could very conveniently relate to that. Perhaps,
the same could not be said of our national teachers at that time as they would have mostly stayed
within the curriculum. The impact came strongly from the international staff as they had the
numbers and were in control of the school’s operation as well. That meant the campus was generally
influenced by their own interlectual and cultural mindset that rubbed off on to students. Their level
of organisation and our adherence to instructions and directions whether in class or outside were
obvious and distinct. Overall, this achieved a campus atmosphere that was conducive for learning in
which all parties understood their part.

10TH INDEPENDENCE ANNIVERSARY - 1985

The year was 1985. Ten years earlier I had witnessed the birth of our Independence. In 1975, I was in
year two, standard two at Gon Primary School in Kundiawa. I was still pretty much a Hegetoru village
boy as my adaptation to town life had only been three years at that point when the Independence
event took place. As a nine year old boy who had spend childhood days in a traditional village and
cultural environment, my comprehension of happenings around me was simply of curiosity and
excitment. Two years earlier, grown ups around me talked about self-government and this time the
word Independence was on the lips of everyone, more so a topic discussed everyday by my teachers.

When September 16th came, there was something explosive and unique about it. For adults the
feeling would have probably been likened to the expectation of eagerly waitingt to welcome and
host a dignitory of great stature. For me and perhaps my peers, it was a hypnotistic mindset of
wanting to touch and feel this thing everyone had been talking about. On the day, we lined up from
our school along the road with other nearby schools to welcome Independence. When it did arrive,
it was in the representation of Prince Charles of Wales representing the Queen of England and head
of the Commonwealth Nations accompanied by local leaders including Sir Iambakey Okuk whom I
could clearly remember. PNG was on this day joining the list of Commonwealth Nations as its newest
independent member state. For Days after the celebrations at the Kundiawa Dicksons field, adults
around me behaved and acted as if they had suddenly grown wings to fly. They uttered statements
such as “ mipela fri now na ken mekim samting long laik”, meaning we are free and can do whatever
we desire. For days earlier I remembered well running into the gardens and bushes to collect the
paper flags thrushed out in the air by small planes and at school we were each given a paper flag.
After the dignatories had driven passed us, we were let free and at the end of the day, the paper flag
was the only thing I took home as souvenier and decorated a wall next to my bed.

Ten years fast-forwarded to 1985 and I found myself in a position to design and host a program to
celebrate Independence. It was the 10th Independence Anniversary Celebrations on the Keravat
Campus. I was the School Captain and as the leader of the student body, all eyes were on me to deal
with the school adminitration and to make the anniversary eventful. I was not standing and watching
from the side anymore like ten years ago. This time, I was expected to raise the real flag and make
statements to honor our Independence that gave us freedom to grow our nation the way we
desired. I was faced with an awesome challenge and an opportunity to reaffirm my generation’s
desire and commitment to freely, without fear develop and modernise our nation, and in doing so
respect and uphold the dreams and visions of our founders. It was a time to promote and enhance
the values of nationhood in our young minds and to make us believe in the principles that give a
state its sovereignty. These we had to state and live it in the jobs and professions we would pursue
after Keravat. I was privileged to be in that role to give hand in making the 10 Independence
Anniversary Celebrations a memorable one.

Yet for me, the school Captain’s job didnt just pass on a golden plate to me from out-going school
head boy, Mr Eremas Wartovo (Wartoto).This happenend to be the Papua New Guinean who will be
remembered by everyone for establishing the third level airline called the Mangi blong Ples. He had
lead the Student Representative Council (SRC) in 1984. Like normal tradition in schools, election was
conducted to find the next leader at the end of the school year. Nominations were put forward and
my name went from my class. It seemed my class was dead serious to push me in the race and
among the most excited ones was our class teacher Janice. A week of campaign followed for the
nominees to move among students and discuss how best we would make our leadership count. The
best of our abilities were judged by the student body at an assembly designated for an open public
campaign challenge. My speech probably had the charisma and convincing edge. I could not tell at
that point of my speech but the overwhelming votes I collected to win proved that I could shoulder
the job better than my rivals. On the priority list of events in the new year, the Independence
Celebrations to mark the 10th Anniversary was singled out as a very significance event and my SRC
was expected to deliver on top of other responsibilities and activities setout for the 1985 school
year.

The other major SRC activities for 1985 calenda year included a combined meeting for the school
Captains of the four National High Schools which was scheduled at Sogeri and this to be followed by
the National High School sports Carnival scheduled at Aiyura towards the end of second quarter.
These two events held yearly had been the tradition of the four national high schools. As scheduled,
Sogeri hosted the school captains meeting and our respective schools were responsible for our
tickets.

I had passed through Port Moresby only once on my way home to Simbu which was at the end of the
1984 school year but I didnt see much of it. This meeting gave me another opportunity to experience
some more of the capital city. I didnt know that Sogeri National High School was located in the
mountains until we started driving out of the city going past Erima, the Port Moresby Show ground
at nine mile and the driver took us around Bomana Police college, then to 14 mile and after 17 mile,
the ride got interesting. The steep ride up on the school’s bus was nerve wrecking for me and the
breath taking manuevor at the corner of the Rouna fall turned me almost speechless. As we leveled
off at the plateau, I had wondered why the Education Department went through the trouble of
putting a national high school there. However it had been such a prestigeous school with a profound
history of educating a lot of our prominent leaders. One such statesman was Grand Chief Sir Michael
Thomas Somare. On arrival at the campus we were greeted by the host Captain, Mr Erastus Kombori
and after showing us around, led me to my accomodation for the one night. It was a friday afternoon
and the program had been set for Saturday, a single day meeting.

In the meeting on Saturday, two agendas and their resolutions stood out prominent. Our agreement
to bring teams for the sports carnival in Aiyura and the hosting of the 10th Independence
Anniversary Celebrations at our respective schools. For the 10 anniversary celebrations, we resolved
to get in touch with the National Government’s annivesary committee to get some slice of funding.
The responsibility was given to the host school to make the representation as they were closer to
Waigani. I found the meeting enriching and full of fun as we demonstrated our leadership skills to
discuss and debate issues concerning our schools. Meetings such as this had been a long kept
tradition and aimed at molding young leaders for future roles. I returned to Keravat inspired and
motivated to do more at my school.

The meeting at Sogeri was conducted in the month of June and considering that the Sports carvinal
was within reach at the end of August, I had to seriously get down to completing our fund raising
drives and plan the travel arrangement to Aiyura with my sports committee. Some financial support
came from the School for this sporting event but we were expected to find the rest ourselve and
faced with the challenge of flying our contigent to Lae and then on buses into Kainantu and Aiyura
valley. It was a mamoth task for the Committee. Apart from seeking donations from business houses
in Rabaul, the biggest fun drive was our walkathon from the Keravat School campus to Rabaul town.
It seemed we had raised enough yet not adequate to fill in teams for all the events. The committe
had to adjust quickly to cut back participation in some events and make some individuals participate
in more than one event. My negotiation with Air Niugini helped achieved reduction in fares for the
team to fly one way and to return on a passenger ship as generally planned.

Another important decision was to get enough highlanders on the team as what was keenly
anticipated and kept in focus was the Independence celebration and the SRC had wanted all of them
to return back to school with traditional customes. This proposition was accepted without any
complication and the team travelled with heightened spirit to enjoy the event hosted by the Aiyura
National High School.

To maximise the use of limited funds, even committee members including myself that travelled with
the team had to be good in a particular sport and incase of injuries, we had to have some skills in
one or two other sport. I was listed for rugby touch but could step in for basketball and table tennis.
We had few minor organisational hiccups on the day of travel with individuals turning up late or
forgetting sporting gears but the travel to Aiyura via Lae on a plane and then on two bus loads up the
highlands highway was enjoyable. Our team manager was Mr Vincent Kavanamur, the school sports
coordinator who was ably assisted by Mr Akai Kopuri, our station manager. Akai had worked at
Aiyura campus sometime back so he was very helpful and with the Committees help, the travel and
our participation at the carnival was made enjoyable for everyone. The only complain we commonly
copped was for the cold mornings and evenings in Aiyura which our first timers from the coastal
region could not tolerate.

The weekend of sporting was exceptionally cordial making it an unforgetable experience for young
colleagues across the nation. In the end, it seemed we had accomplished the purpose of having such
event and achieved its goal of creating a homogeneous feeling of a united community of future
people. It was a clash of sporting talents and skills on the fields but it was an opportunity to make
friends and enjoy a new environment in another part of the country. To this moment, I still
remember the jovial air of meeting and emotions of departure that pinpointed our forsight to the
future, at the same time revealing the inherent collective potentials that would make a difference in
the years ahead.

The Keravat team moved into action quickly for its next objective after the carnival was over. Those
of us from the region were given at least three days to travel to our homes and congregate back in
Lae with our traditional costumes. The rest of the team would continue to stay in Aiyura and then
travel to Lae at the end of the second day. It was an opportunity also to show face at our homes so
we all moved with excitment. I travelled together with Robert Umba to Kundiawa where he left me
and went all the way to Kondopina in Western Highlands where his parents lived. He had to return
the next day to Kundiawa after collecting some costumes. I did the same grabbing whatever I could
get hold off and we headed off again back to Lae mid second day. In the similar manner, other
students respectively did the same and we all found ourselves back together in Lae on the third day.
After taking the roll to ensure that everyone had returned, we were a whole team again ready to
board our ship for Rabaul.

For some including myself, it would be a first experience and I didnt know about others but I did
experience nervous break down. I remembered sitting down quietly and at times closing my eyes to
allow balance to return to my body. For a while I didnt move about until some confidence returned
to me to walk over to the side to look out at the vast ocean. Soon I was talking well and forgot that I
was on a ship and all the jokes, stories and singing from our team kept my mind occupied. It took us
the first night after boarding, a whole day at sea and by the next morning after the second night, we
had sailed into Simpson harbor in Rabaul. We had returned to our base safely after an eventful week
and it felt homely to be greeted by the naturally perfumed frangipani atmosphere of Rabaul. Our
school truck and bus had awaited in time to ferry us back to our campus for a well deserved rest and
a good meal at our mess returning us back to our usual campus routine. It was an awesome
experience and had a lasting impression on all who travelled to Aiyura. As the school captain, I had
the honor of seeing it happen and that enriched me in countless ways.

Pretty soon the Independence day was finally in sight. We had worked hard enough and the level of
collaboration between the students and staff comprising the 10th Anniversary Independance
Organsing Committee was exceptionally serious and geared at delivering a grand celebration. The
SRC leadership was given every support it needed by the administration, infact it went out of its way
to ensure the Celebration would leave a lasting impression on the school, students and community
at large in remembering and appreciating the importance of independence. While all our Provincial
and regional cultural groups from the school were giving all the time they could everyday to practice
and collect their costumes, my committee tuned into physical work mode for the dancing arena. We
planned and constructed it in such a way that the sitting shelter shades for the audience and guests
surrounded the dancing arena in a rectangular arrangement. At its two opposite corners, we left
sufficient gaps for the entry and exit of dancing troups. The dances were to be performed in the
central arena marked out.

In between the organising, I had to squeese bits of time to join in the dancing and singing practices
with my regional group. We had planned for three dancing styles, one from the Eastern end,
particularly from Goroka involving the gasagasa dance and the other from the Western end which
covered Simbu, Jiwaka and Western Highlands with their colorful plumes, feathers and painted
faces. I chose to dress in the Simbu costumes. The other three regions did even better than the
highlands region. As expected, NGI region broke their organisation into Provincial groups presenting
their dancing troups as Mungkas, NIPS, Manus, Kombes and the Landlords; the Tolais with their
popular dukduk and wipping rituals. The Papuan region also organised into the centrals, the Tapioka
dance by the Milne bays and Western and Gulf Provinces performed the Kiwai dance lead by our
tallest man of our campus Sama Auro. The Momase region had two dancing groups; Madangs
combing with the Sepik Provinces and Morobe presenting a single group because of its large
number. Combined the four regions, the organising committee was satisfied the Independence
Aniverssary would be a huge celebration and our effort was worth it. Our advertising went out to
four corners ofthe East New Britain Province and we anticipated a huge turnout on the 16th of
September 1985.

As envisaged, there was huge turnup for the 10th Annivessary Independence celebration at our
Keravat Campus. We learnt later that our event was one of the biggest in the Province as there was
not much elsewhere. To commemorate the day with us, our expatriate teachers walked out of their
houses to the scene in their national outfits. It was not an ordinary celebration and such gesture
from our overseas friends indeed added flavor to the day. The school provided the stage and enticed
the mood for citisens to express their thoughts and feelings for an achievement that happened 10
years earlier. The short speeches in-between the dances that came from VIPs including the Principal
Mr Carter and myself set the tone for the annivesary celebration. On behalf of my school mates,
both great 11s and 12s, I recalled making a very short speech. That 10 years earlier we were in
grades 2 and 1 when Independence came and we never understood what it meant. But on this
occassion we were filled with joy and appreciation because we understood the dream and visions of
our founders, and that we were now confronted with duty and responsibility to help build our young
country. Mr Braun Sinai who was then the Premier of ENBP came as our guest of honor and spoke
passionately about the need to shoulder the future ourselves with certainty and confidence.

At the end of the day, the smiles on the faces and enjoyment that filled the campus atmosphere all
the way into our night events expressed it fully that gaining Independence was not a bad thing at all.
Our Independence defined us and gave us a place of recognition on the world stage and it deserved
such celebrations.

ENCOUNTER WITH SIR IAMBAKEY OKUK

The thrilling episodes of my time at Keravat in 1985 was even given a grand finishning when the
School management agreed to my suggestion to invite Sir Iambakey Okuk to be the guest of honor at
our graduation ceremnoy. Mr Carter, the Principal had called me into his office and put to me to
propose someone that could come and inspire the graduants. We were just some weeks away from
sitting for our grade 12 examinations and he wanted to proceed with the graduation plan in ample
time. I had proposed Sir Iambakey Okuk’s name as my nominee for guest speaker.

The coming of the national examination indicated we were nearing the end of our time at the
Keravat campus. It was the cross-road to prove whether we had taken our studies seriously by
demonstrating academic excellence or perform poorly in our results. That would then determine
where we advance from here. The four of us, me, Robert, Mollen and Pillingan that made it to
Keravat from Kerowagi High school would often consult each other for help in studies or other
needs and at times travelled into Rabaul town together on weekends. We were a formidable team
and for this purpose we found ourselves sharing notes and engaged in serious discussions about our
examination. We remained committed as a team to do better to advance just like we did in grade 10.
For late hour discussions, Robert and Mollen would easily find me in the school captains room which
was a bit larger then the boys cubicles. Like us, every other grade 12 student on the campus went
into serious study mode to perform better. Well, actually this was the primary reason why we all
ended up getting a study space at the Keravat National High School and it was crucial we succeeded
this phase.
For the Manus girl, she could easily expect more of my time. Pillingan and I were school mates from
Kerowagi High School but more than that she was my girl friend, seriously the only one on the
Keravat campus. Our closeness was conspicuous and on such a small and closed campus, we all
could quickly pick out who was with who and those that showed no interest in extra curricular affairs
except school work. On a serious note, such early relationships on school campuses could become
distraction to academic diligence and we were always warned about that. Inspite of such stern
warnings, some of us still managed to juggle between school work and the friendship affair. That was
cheeky in a way because at this stage, we were matured enough to be aware of the repercussions
should we crossed lines. But Pillingan and I started in 1983 at Kerowagi High School and two years
on, our relationship had taken roots and become initimately strong. On campus, her Manus group
was aware and whenever she turned up at meetings for our Highlands group which we called
Highlands United Front (HUF), she was welcomed and accepted. For me as the school Captain, I had
to lead by good example and often had to remind myself to exercise restrain but it seemed I had
gravely crossed the line.

Pillingan was a smart and high achiever but it seemd the distractions had taken toll. She had lost
interest in school work by the middle of 1985 and her output in school work and tests were
registering poor results. Her friends noticed that and her teachers showed great concern too but she
had lost herself. I felt the blame for taking too much of her attention and time. It was not possible
for me to reverse her emotional state of mind and if I had pulled away, it would devastate her so we
continued to work together quietly towards the examinations trusting all would go well.

The time came and we all sat through the examination pretty well. As expected there was nothing
there that we didnt cover in our classrooms with our teachers. The difference in some questions
were that they were twisted and angled in ways to make us think harder and give answers. For some
of us that stayed absent minded sometimes in classes, simple questions made us felt stupid and the
difficult ones mind boggling. Some students could easily attempt difficult questions or math but lost
concentration on simple ones. That was just the nature of examinations and everyone had their own
reactions. Post exam chats were typical of examinations and we were not isolated from that. We
carried on such discussions among our friends every day after each exam well into the nights for the
whole week. Our Kerowagi High School group emerged pretty confident at the end of the exam
week. When checking on Pillingan particularly, she was positive in that she managed to get through
all the examination papers and felt good. She might have lost her eagerness and capacity to perform
well but she stayed right through to this point. This examination was the one final activity that would
accord all of us our grade 12 certificates confirming we had completed our studies successfully and
give us access to the next level so we all took it seriously.

Our time on this campus had closed in on us. Following the examination week, our graduation
program was in sight. It had become campus talk that the no-nonesense tough talking iconic
politician, Sir Iambakey Okuk had accepted the invitation to grace the school and speak at the
graduation. The excitment was even bigger among the HUF students. Okuk was an excellent choice
as everyone wanted to see and hear from this popular Highlands politician. He had become
controversial for his decision on the dash 7 planes which he signed for in Canada without approval
from the National Executive Council (NEC) and he defended it aggressively claiming it was good
investment for the country. He stood firm in Parliament on the issue of Independence for West
Papuans and he was a great advocate of good governance and service delivery. Okuk also became
politically sensitive for his decision to contest and win the Unggai Bena seat in a bielection after he
had lost his seat as regional MP for the Simbu Province.

Okuk was a name I grew up with in Kundiawa from the time I started pre-school in 1973. From that
early age I perceived him as a giant in politics and although I learnt about other Simbu politicians in
the likes of Delba Bire (Gumine), Kobale Kale (Sinasina-Yongomugl), Robert Yabara (Chuave),Mark
Konia (Kundiawa-Gembogl), Waguo Goiye (Kerowagi) who were popular in the Province and the
Nation in certain important ways, Okuk impressed on me in a big way and evolved into my mentor.
As a school child I would see him from far and stare at him long enough to appreciate him. My view
of him became more personal as I moved into Primary school. His eldest son Tangil Okuk moved in
and out of Gon Primary School in Kundiawa and although we were not close as he was my junior, we
grew in awareness of each other. His mother Lady Karina who hailed from Bena in Eastern Highlands
was responsible for my family moving to her block outside of the Kundiawa town near Dogor river
going pass Sigarap market where she ran a poultry farm. She wanted Eastern Highlanders to live
around her farm and keep watch over it. Nawavo and his clans men were specifically singled out to
be part of this group. This brought me to another level closer to Sir Iambakey and his family, yet the
man himself was remote from me in reality. Simply I was a mere child at that point in time.

However, many years later I was in a position to seek him and create an opportunity to meet him
face to face. It was an awesome feeling but I wasnt the only one looking forward to it. My friend
Robert Umba had some family connections too with Okuk’s close relatives in Kondopina block,
Western Highlands and often sees him visit them. From those relatives in Kondopina, two had come
to be students at Keravat and both carried the Okuk surname. Dara Okuk and Kawage Okuk, were
still in grade 11 and both were quite excited to meet their relative. On the day of graduation, the
famous Okuk had stepped foot onto the school campus alone quite early and no one noticed.

I could still remember the nervousness that engulfed me when Mr Carter send word for me to
quickly get to his office to meet our important guest. I had to quickly find Robert to accompany me, a
way to boost my confidence before Sir Iambakey. I was here about to meet my mentor and the man
I had been obssesed with since my Primary school days. I had only been seing him and admiring him
from distance but not this close. The difference this time was that it was my call. I nominated him
and here he was my guest. Yet, as I stepped up in front of the Principal’s office to knock, I felt my
heart beating faster and the greetings line of my statement that I had been thinking up on my way
somehow vanished. I didnt know what to expect and just knocked at the same time signalling Robert
to follow after me.

The Principal called out for me to step in and as I did, the familiar face I had been watching as a boy
stared right back into my face with a gentle but an all too common smile that could never be
mistaken. It was him, the man of Highlands ethnicity who speaks with shrewdness and carries with
him an aura of warrrior fearlessness. He stood up and gave me a solid handsake and greeted me
after Mr Carter had introduced me as the school headboy. I than introduced Robert Umba and we
both sat down. As Sir Iambakey spoke I sensed something different. His presence dignified that office
atmosphere and his words had that essence of authority. Such were the traits that made him an
outspoken and a no nonsense national politician of his time. I was proud he came and no doubt he
was a perfect choice for my generation of tomorrow’s leaders and we all had been waiting eagerly to
see and hear him speak.

After about fifteen minutes in his office, the Principal directed me to escort our VIP and show him
around the campus as we still had a lot of time before the ceremony. I felt elated and honored to do
that as I claimed this was meant to be. I could not imagine someone else doing this. Word got
around fast that Okuk was on the campus and scores of highlands and other eager students flocked
around to greet and meet him as we strolled about the campus. This also gave opportunity for the
two Okuks studing on campus to meet and chat with him. I ensured they didnt take much time so
we could cover the main areas of the campus. For me, walking about with a National politician of
such overwhelming stature at this point in my life seemed a dream. This was a privilege I had as the
school captain and I was merely performing my duty as directed but deep in me, he was someone
special. He was my mentor and where else could I have got such an encounter. As we walked he
asked questions about the school and the teaching staff which I responded to with the best of my
knowledge. But when it came to his comments about bigger issues, such as future of students and
leadership matters in aspects of nation building, the best I could do was listen as I was still naive at
this point to engage in any serious level of discussion with him. Back at the staff meeting room,
while waiting for the Principal and other invited guests to turn up, we sat and he talked and I
listened as much as I could.

Graduation Ceremnoy 1985

This graduation signalled the end of our study time at the Keravat campus and soon in due course,
the determinations of our grade 12 examinations would prove whether we gave adequate attention
to academic excellence or just passed time there. The day also signified that the time had come for
us to start packing up for home and this meant saying goodbye to our loved ones, friends and our
beloved teachers. Nevetheless, significantly this moment was a time to celebrate our successful
completion of the national high school education program and we had a good reason to be proud of
the privilege and opportunity we had encountered.

I watched from the stage that had been set for the ceremony in the school hall as the grade 12
students moved in to take their places. The stage setting and decorations honored the importance of
the day and the graduation mood was set in motion by the way students and teaching staff dressed
up for the occassion. Our guest of honor, Sir Iambakey Okuk was accompanied into the hall by
another important guest, Sir Paulias Matane, a pioneer of the school in the 1950s and who was at
this point in time the Foreign Affairs secretary. They both were ushered in by the Principal. As the
School’s Captain I was designated to greet guests and lead them to their seat which I had positioned
myself to do as our VIPs began arriving. The hall was organised in such a way that all graduants sat in
front and the grade 11s sat in the back seats. Finally, everyone was called to attention and the
program began. That was how it was with the last formal occassion for the school to congratulate
and farewell us for the two years we had on the campus.

From all the speeches at this occassion that didnt stick long in my mental archive, the power of Sir
Iambakey Okuk’s speech still echoes in my head. He created an impression that he was worried
about the signs of negative attitude in the public service system and he could forsee that corruption
would be a big issue if not addressed seriously soon. What struck me most was the way he was
direct and blunt with his statements, seemingly directed at top public servants. I thought he really
shook Sir Paulias up but I figured he was aware that the top civil servant was there and would
capture his concerns and he did smartly used the occassion to stress issues he felt may become
impediments to development.

I recall giving a short speech and remember clearly my core lines.. That the campus had nautured us
to think and do things independently, and brought our intellectual capacity and mindset to a level
that would help us to prepare for national responsibilities in the years ahead, for which we were so
greatful as graduating students. Mr Carter who was more like a father figure to us at Keravat as
Principal delivered his formal speech too but what I still recall most from it was a sombre moment
that ignited tears in most us. His emotive state was obvious in his voice when he couldn’t utter the
words farewell and goodbye. We had been made his responsibiility for the two years and this
occassion was the pinacle of that assignment in which he was proud of the accomplishment but it
was moving too for him as he was now releasing these young Papua New Guineans he and others
had come all the way from great Britain and else where to help educate, mold and shape. This would
have also been the feeling of all our expatriate teachers who had come to relate to us on the campus
in many different ways. I kind of felt the effect a little more because almost all of them helped
advised and guided me in my duties as the School’s captain and I was definitely going to miss their
friendship.

Finally each and every graduating student of 1985 approached the podium proudly and recieved
their certificates of attainment. It was our moment and everyone of us eagerly awaited our turn
filled with excitment and sense of accomplishment. I observed no hesitation or relunctance in the
manner everyone march to the front to receive their envelope and the assuring handsake each from
the guest of honor, Sir Iambakey Okuk gave hope and confidence in the immense opportunities that
lay ahead. Like everyone graduating, I also walked over from the front where I had been most of the
time to receive mine. Apart from that, I also received a gift package from the school with
acknowledgement for my leadership role as school captain. That indeed was a call I accepted to
carry with some degree of sacrifice and in the end, I felt It was a service discharged with honor to the
wonderful institution and to my fellow country men and women, who would be leaders in the times
ahead.

The ending of the formal activities also closed the chapter of our life as students on the Keravat
campus and we had instructions to pack and depart for our homes within 72 hours. Still the last task
expected of me was to help the Principal make sure all the grade 12s left within the given three days
and when all had left, I exited out from the beautiful Barike land with the last lot of us that flew out
to Port Moresby.

CHALLENGE OF FATHERHOOD CHAPTER 10

I returned home to Kundiawa at the end of the school year feeling greatly troubled. Nawawo and his
wife, my mother who were basically uneducated people had big expectation in me to complete
school well and stay focus, and in their view get a good job. As they had always said to me, “ girls
should be last on your list while you are in school as a girl meant for you will always come by,
perhaps not those who are your school friends now but the ones still growing up”. It turned out that
I did completely the opposite. I had news for my parents. My girl friend of three years had fallen
pregnant and was expecting soon, sometime in December of the same year. I had no power to
reverse this and just had to bite the bullet by facing the truth. The news did shock my mother and
father as they didnt expect to be grand parents so soon but understanding and acceptance on their
part paved way faster for me to deal with my girl friend’s family. The child was born on the 20th
December 1985 and we both were still confused but my family presence and her sides tolerance
brough comfort. I was not prepared in all aspects but I had to own up and claim responsibility if I
desired to keep the mother and child and that had to happen fast.

I expected that they would be in shock too like my parents and would be greatly disappointed and
angry with her first for her stupidity in getting involved with me. At the same time I consciously
figured too that they would hold me completely responsible for bringing about this unexpected
mayhem. I thought out quickly that they could end up doing two things. One, send Rose away to stay
in her village in Manus as a purnishment and a way to keep me completely out of her life or two,
keep the child and allow Rose to pursue her education and ban me completely from the child and
mother. I believed they could do these or anything to keep me away and I had to act. I didnt want
Rose to be in trouble with her elder brother who was her guidian parent. At nineteen years of age,
immaturity and naiveness had had the upper hand on me but I had to allow simple common sense
to lead me.

When I felt completely confident that I was ready, I confronted the truth with the comfort of my two
school mates who were almost like blood brothers to me. Tolly Tara and Robert Umba accompanied
me. We didnt bring money or anything to please the brother as is common in customa inoder to
draw his attention for discussion on the matter. I needed mediatory agents for such but I could not
afford that as I didnt have the capacity. I couldnt dare to bother my parents for this. We just simply
brought our physical self and plan to Barawagi Correctional Institute where John Eluh worked as a
prison Officer. The three of us braved the shyness of youth and I buried the the embarrashment that
eminated from the issue. In humbleness we entered his home not knowing what to expected. For
me, the strenght of three young immatured man transformed and surged out of me the courage of
a man not about to let go of what rightfully belong to him. I was there to lay claim to what was my
doing and we were determined to make our case and be heard. We had waited in his home and
didnt know what to expect from Mr Eluh but we were ready for anything.

We looked at each other in panic when the three of us heard the foot steps of this correctional
officer approaching his house. I was clearly under pressure and this also rubbed off quickly on my
friends. This man could react in any way which included belting us or calling on his colleagues to help
throw us out of the prison premise. We were simply at his mercy and all we had to do was keep calm
and keep watch. I was expecting him to be fumed with rage and to express his anger in some
physical ways but he didnt say anything as he reached his door and walked right in. We didnt look
into his face to see what expression he wored on it but we felt he was angry. It seemd nature was on
our side as his trainings and disciplined life aided as our biggest ally in this matter. He had to calm
off his hate and anger inside his house before facing us. His Morobe wife, mother to Sipora, Eluh and
Davis was the go-in between. I guessed she had already allowed us to be in the residence area so the
stage was pretty much set for him to hear us. There wasnt much to say. Our presence and my
statement that I was the person responsible for the little baby boy in Pilligan’s hands was enough to
ease the tensed atmoshpere. All he did say was he wouldl make sure Rose continues her education
and the baby will be in his care . Tolly, Robert and I left Barawagi with mixed feelings but very
satisfified at our courage to walk right into Rose’s family’s home and lay claim to the child.

OFFERS
The year 1986 was crucial for our continuity in Education. Rose Pilligan Eluh was accepted to take up
nursing training at the Highlands Nursing College based at Goroka Base Hospital. My offer came from
the main campus at the University of Papua New Guinea to take up Science Foundation. This was a
critical juncture and we had to make serious decisions on the way forward and for the sake of our
baby. It was particulary difficult for Rose as her brother had a different plan and she couldnt have
anything to do with parting from the baby. Without the knowledge of her brother, Rose packed and
left Barawagi with the baby to live her life at my settlement home in Kundiawa. Her determination
and courage to take this path as a mother at that tender age was incredible and stance such as this
was especially rare for a coastal Island lady at that point in time. She told me once she couldnt
believe what was happening to her as she once convinced her friends that she would never end up
with a man from the Highlands.

These were the times in history in which relationships between coastal women and Highlands men
were percieved with concern and restricted for suspicion of mistreatment. But this Manus girl was
driven by a love affair she had been nutured for three solid years and now deeply engulfed in an
inseperable bond beyong her control by the love for her baby. Whether she carried the same love
for me as the baby was an immaterial concern for me at that critical point and really, that love thing
had manisfested in this creation which we both were reseponsible. She was the first to make the
move. She burried her own ambition, dreams, commitments and responsibilities to her clan and
family, left her family, village and province and disappointed her school friends who shared common
vision, and undeterred took the call of motherhood. We were running the race for education
together but suddenly she had to pause, couldnt run anymore or see further ahead as her attention
had been completely drawn and diverted. When she looked into little Tolly’s face, her dream and
her future was all wrapped up right there in her arms. She beg on me to continue the education
journey and drowned her emotions from this decision in the innocent smilles and the cute face of
our baby.

It takes extra-ordinary minds to live and experience true sacrifice and Rose stays right ahead on my
list because I was both the cause and the beneficiary. It is a phenomenal and fascinating testimony
as this path took 1986 to 2020, a 34 year living sacrifice to bring to comprehension what God and
nature had kept obscured from this Manus lady. The joys and pains of bringing up her children in a
settlement environment in Kundiawa to an invaded life of political patronage by supporters in
Eastern Highlands, the achievement in education of her seven children have been phenomenal and
the pinnacle of her sacrfice. Hers was a single life sacrifice but God blessed her seven folds.

This memoire of course is not about Rose as I have been trying to create an impression of Nawawo -
my father, his dreams and sacrfices, yet Rose’s involvement perfectly became an intricate part of the
the old man’s dreams for me. I may have been a disappointment to some degree but the
achievements of his grandchildren probably superceded that. However, this is still his story as we
have been on the path of his journey through life and my story and that of my children are pretty
much encompassed in his dreams.

In this dramatic encounter that I got caught in, Nawawo and my mother never showed any sign of
disappointment or rejection. Perhaps they discussed the issue on their own and kept it quiet but it
seemed they accepted the reality presented before them. Nawawo had a spare house in our
settlement compound which he quickly arranged and fit in the beds for the baby and mother. We
had settled on a piece of land of almost 0.5 hectare so there was sufficient space for gardening and
new houses. This couple loved gardening so they had bigger gardens compared to other neighbours
in this particular settlement. Rose and her son quickly settled in without any hussel surrounded by
the love and caring support of my siblings and relatives.

Stiil in all of this I wondered what dominated Nawawo’s thoughts in his quiet moments about my
future. His excitment in my acceptance to the University of PNG had probably been confused by the
joy of a first grand child I would think. Yet, was this what he wanted? Inded, he may have been
looking forward to me completing school and getting a job first before all of this. Shockingly I had
brought home an unforseen burden, yet was it right for him to carry this for me? Too many things
happened fast and I didnt dwell much on these thoughts at that time and perhaps him either.
Nawawo and his wife didnt say much about this and I simply took it for granted. My mother and
Mama Nengo were there giving hand to Rose in everything and Nawawo had to do extra things to
sustain life for them while I was being kept well by the University. It seemed unfair though but life is
never a smooth walk and lessons learnt soon expose one to the art of living real life. There were
some issues and things that mattered but keeping the family together appeared the most vital goal
and Nawawo was the master architect of the bigger picture working at it piece by piece and allowing
nature to take its course.

Talking about Mama Nengo, I am so greatful God in his own inifinite ways and divinity bridged the
Lafanamas and Taras to blend into a bond that had become inseperable. Rose would have found it
extremely difficult if it was only the settlement home she had to raise Tolly. Mama Nengo opened
her doors to her town home and her heart with love so pure and incredible, and she was formiable
in her support to Rose. This home had always been opened to the Lafanamas but Tolly’s arrival gave
essence to the established friendship making us tick as one. The journeys of our parents to kundiawa
were seperate but their next journey in pursuit for their children’s education set the stage for new
friendships. Tolly Tara and I started school at Kundiawa preschool in 1973 and build a brotherhood
bond that has extended to our families for many decades and still going strong into the third
generation. It was totally fitting that my first born son was named Tolly, in short Toi and the legacy
will live on. When Rose and I left Kerowagi for Keravat, Tolly went on to Aiyura National High School.
With Rose now taking up motherhood role, I was ready for the next phase at the University of Papua
New Guinean and Tolly Tara was on his way to the University of Technology.

LIFE AT THE UNIVERSITY OF PNG CHAPTER 11

EXCITEMENT
MINDSET AND TRAUMA
COURSE 1986
CHANGE IN DIRECTION OF STUDY 1987
INDUCTION INTO MELSOL
Informal lessons at UPNG – Lessons of ideological power play and influence on
world political stage
ACTIVISIM ON UPNG CAMPUS
BACHELOR OF ARTS DEGREE IN POLITICAL SCIENCE & ADMINISTRATION

MY ACTIVITIST LIFE CHAPTER 12

FIRE OF ACTIVISM – 1987 -1997

BOUGAINVILLE UPRISING
ACITIVIST CAMPAIGNS
PNG WATCH COUNCIL
SAP VS PASAP
FIGHT AGAINST LAND MOBILISATION
SANDLINE MARCH
SANDLINE AFTERMAT
ARRESTS
1997 NATIONAL ELECTION
CASE: PL VERSUS JULIUS CHAN

POLITICAL OFFICE & TURBULANCE CHAPTER 13

1997 CAMPAIGN & OFFICE OF GOVERNOR

COURT OF DISPUTED RETURNS
1999 BI-ELECTION
COURT DISPUTES
LEADERSHIP TRIBUNAL
2002 NATIONAL ELECTION

LONG ROAD – GAINS & FALLS CHAPTER 14

Chapter ‘’’’

MY Activist life Chapter 11

Custodian Of Melsol Ideology
The Campaign
The Sandline Episode
The untold scarifices
Rise and Fall to political stature Chapter 12

CHAPTER 13
EXPERIENCES OF AN EX-POLITICIAN.

PAIRING
My encounters at the Keravat campus during 1984 and 1985 could not be complete without my
indulgence down the road of teenage romance.

My love Experience
Final Examinations
Graduation and Farewells

20 December 1985. Fatherhood

Nawavo faced with Grandparenthood
Commitment to school at UPNG
Involvment with Melsol
Graduation

Activisim and Family man

International travels
Issues of Common Interest

Land Mobilisation
Sandline I ssue

1997 Election
Political Madante & Political Office

01101 6365 1740, 46465 5571 7815, 13902 9854 2270, 63127 6807 7927

Accepted for high school at KHS 1800673/73733000 *627* member N0* DOB # send
Kerowagi High School 7773573864356, 5797962463785, 4960742741699
Was parents pride and joy
Commitment school and faith in God Tiri wanga ---- 70062778 Lands...
First taste of activism
First big role leadership
First taste of Romance
Certificates without graduation
(reason – boys into girls dorm)
Highest number on record to national high schools.
The Barike Experience in Keravat

First flight across the Bismark sea

Rabaul airport Matupit
Road ride experience with Anastasia the driver
Challenges in grade 11
Leadership role as School President
1985 10 anniversary Independence celebration
Sir Iambakey Okuk as guest speaker at graduation
My love relationship with Rose

University of Papua New Guinea

Joys and challenges

Shift in Course from science to Political science
Professional and ideological grouping trends
Grounding in ideological perspective
Wave of activism

Where I resided and attend school

The look of kundiawa town in 1973.
Lafanama, more than a friend,, Lafanama, my friend.. Dad in a friend,
Advancing from pre-school to Primary school
Town as I saw it (Goroka to Kundiawa)

My Father’s Determination Chatpter 5

All the Firsts, White, Indian, Ice cube, Elephant, Milk, Chocolate, Prince Charles Chapter 5

Chapter 7
Living and growing up in Kundiawa
My four Corner town
Main features – Dickson’s oval, Hospital, Simbu Cooperative Society, Simbu Sports Club,
Simbu Lodge, Tokma Haus Piksa, Malaria, DC’s Hill, Kundiawa International Primary School,
Nursing Quarters, Police barracks & Single quarters.
Gardening and Bird Hunting
Weekends on Rugby and Movies

CHAPTER 7
GON SCHOOL

Chapter 8
My High school recollections
First experience of activistism and protest- grade 8
School Head boy
School Fete
Control of Mess Rations
Love of my Life
Near Expulsion on allegation of entering girl’s dom
Record exam success and highest number to senior high schools

Chapter 9
My senior High school days in East New Britain
First longest plane trip (from Kundiawa via Madang)
Experience with first female driver – Annastesia
School Head boy
SRC Heads Meeting at Sogeri
National High School Sports Carnival in Aiyura – 1985
PNG’s 10 anniversary Celeberations organized at SRC at Keravat.
Invitation to Graduation of PNG’s iconic Leader – Late Sir Iambakey Okuk

Chapter ‘’’’
nformal lessons at UPNG – Lessons of ideological power play and influence on
world stage

MY Activist life Chapter 11

Custodian Of Melsol Ideology
The Campaign
The Sandline Episode
The untold scarifices
Rise and Fall to political stature Chapter 12

CHAPTER 13
EXPERIENCES OF AN EX-POLITICIAN.

CHAPTER ONE
LIFE IN THE VILLAGE
Life of Waino, the clan chief
The clan and tribe
Our Legend
Tribal Basis,
Plantation Labour recruitments of the 1950s and 1960s
Tribal Origin (Hegetoru 1 and Hegetoru 2)
My pig scar
My burnt scar on arm
Mount Michael
CHAPTER TWO
First Motor Vehicle/Motor bike, lights, modern houses
Way to distant land
Town as I saw it
Growing up in Kundiawa - My Four Corner Town

CHAPTER 3
Village boy in white preschool
All the Firsts, white, Indian and Ice cube, Elephant
My Fathers determination
Weekends on Rugby and Movies
Gardening and bird hunting

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