Sunday, June 24, 2012

ON LANGUAGE ISOLATES

                                           
"Emancipation Songs"

for Vera Nondai'isiri


Each Sunday I wake up
to a bright morning
I celebrate with my God
these songs of emancipation

That I am no longer slave
to my own words, to my own songs
to each word I utter -
nor see myself as a language isolate
like a Kasunda
of rural west Nepal

My songs
are the aftermath songs
of emancipation
songs of celebrations eternal!

Who was that reggae priest
who sang, "Emancipate yourself
from mental slavery"?

My songs are free
My life is freedom
I am slave to none

From SAILING ON A BOUNTIFUL ARK, a forthcoming publication by The Anuki Country Press.
                                                            

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Our Jeffrey Febi Stands for Elections

                                                                        
Candidate for the Lufa Open Electorate, 2012 Papua New Guinea National Elections

SOMETHING HEAVY HAD SETTLED on my head. I thought I felt my brain inflate and deflate rapidly. I didn’t know I wasn’t thinking. Then I heard a sweet voice cut through this wall of dense confusion.


“Mane!” I turned and saw my concerned mother. The wrinkles around her eyes have grown, her hair more grey. And, clutched firmly in her palm at the end of a frail extended arm, a kaukau. “You must eat,” her voice sounding the more alarming because of its concern.
The scene was more of a successful gathering than one of failure but I, with less than zero experience in crowd control and management, was more worried than every other person who approached to greet me.
After I nominated to officially become a candidate for the Lufa Open Electorate in the Eastern Highlands, I met the crowd. They didn’t come in hundreds; there were over a thousand people.
Men, women, boys, girls, children and babies; some had walked hundreds of miles, taking days to arrive at Lufa government station to witness this event.
Others have flown to Goroka then caught rides on PMVs (public motor vehicles) to Lufa. They are the people of remote rural Lufa; those who sing: ‘They call us camels; they call us white horses; they call us semi-trailers…’
The ensuing excitement and confusion (as I saw it) was over a thousand voices to listen to and innumerable hands to shake and many more bodies to hug. It was overwhelming.

PEOPLE OF LUFA, THE TIME OF POETRY HAS COME. IT IS TIME NOW TO RAISE THAT SONG OF CAMELS, THAT SONG OF COFFEE WHOSE AROMA IS KNOWN AND TASTED THE WORLD OVER!

THANKS TO JEFFREY FEBI OUR BODIES AND SOULS NOW AWAKEN TO THE NEW SOUNDS THAT DAWN BRINGS. AND EVEN IF IT MEANS TAKING THE PEN RIGHT UP TO THE DOORSTEPS OF THE NATIONAL PARLIAMENT, THAT WE SHALL! FOR THE BENEFIT OF OUR PEOPLE.
LET THE WRITER WIELD HIS PEN IN THE PARLIAMENT. LET THE LAWS OF THE LAND BE RE-VISITED, REVISED AND RE-WRITTEN, IF NECESSARY, FOR THE GOOD OF OUR FAMILY, OUR COMMUNITY, OUR PEOPLE AND OUR COUNTRY.

ASK FOR A WRITER’S CHOICE AND THE WRITER CHOOSES THE WRITER.

PEOPLE OF LUFA! THE WRITERS OF PAPUA NEW GUINEA GIVE YOU JEFFREY FEBI. VOTE HIM AND YOU ARE VOTING THE SOUL OF THE NATION INTO PARLIAMENT!

I thought there was no order, and something was brewing. Any moment from now it would burst and someone would be hurt. A child, a man, a woman, anyone…
Just to feed such a crowd was no easy task. A group of men and women in their mid-30s made it seem less arduous. They, young and untested, worked on and on.
There were peaks and troughs, some of which almost derailed their efforts. But at the day’s end, not a single hungry soul was to be found.
I, on the other hand, with less village experience and knowledge, couldn’t envision a successful ending.
This, coupled with the day’s heat and smell of the crowd, almost laid the foundations for a brain explosion.
As the election days unravel along with their latent challenges, I am hoping and praying I’ll be able to cope.

AND THERE YOU HEARD IT ALL. THE VOICE OF THE WRITER!

JEFFREY FEBI FOR LUFA OPEN 2012! 

Wording by Jeffrey Febi courtesy of PNG Attitude. Additional words of support by The Anuki Country Press.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Maintaining ownership of their craft


Two women, driven by the power of the pen, decide to write things that mean a great deal to them. But as we look at their work closely we realize the amount of courage that these two have in jotting down on paper what they truly believe in, indeed the legacy that makes up not only what they are as individuals but also all of us as Papua New Guineans.

In their musings these two women, Emma Wakpi and Regina Dorum, remind us of the musings of that other woman writer, the Australian Drusilla Modjeska, who says that in order to write good literature one must have “the courage to write from the heart – and to return to draft after draft.” That is their craft. That is what they maintain as truly their own and in so doing make the rest of us proud.

Storyboard is pleased to bring to its readers parts of these women’s work. Emma Wakpi wrote about three men of influence in her life. Only one of them, the uncle, is represented in this article.

What my uncle taught me
The most fun you will have in your life is when you take the time to make life fun for others. 

BY EMMA WAKPI

AT A TIME WHEN THE FOCUS of the world is upon Papua New Guinea and its attitude toward women, I have been reflecting upon the male influences in my life.
I know there are good men in PNG and we need their support and encouragement in order to create a safer more equitable society for both sexes. I want to introduce to you three such men who have impacted my life - my grandfather, uncle and father.
These men influenced me in unique ways and the lessons learned were not from longwinded lectures (although they were prone to those too) but rather from observing how they lived their lives.
My uncle Dau was always looking for ways to make life interesting and fun for the children in his family.  He didn’t need money or sophisticated gaming devices; his props were long bamboo sticks, an old trap made from a mishmash of chicken wire and wood and his own self.
I recall on twilight evenings squealing with glee as he would cut bamboo poles to our size and race around wildly with us hitting at small bats that came out just before dusk, flying low over our huts. If we were successful in catching any he made them seem like the best “snacks” we’d ever had.
Other times we “helped” prepare his trap and he would make a great ceremony out of it. We would take it to a “special” place and stand some feet back whilst he would sneak further with exaggerated caution then dramatically chant a loud rhyme (usually thought up right there) and set it.
The fun was in preparing the trap, if he caught something we all rejoiced if he didn’t we were disappointed but it was always the affair of the preparation that got us all excited.  And oh he could tell stories.
His stories engrossed us. Some were fables and rhymes, others he just thought up but it had him singing, crying and gyrating in the dim smoke filled hut grabbing our imaginations and flinging them to far of places where mythical beings and men lived, fought and died.
Sometimes his stories were epics and would be told night by night. At such times he could get us to do anything to ensure that the story would be continued in the evenings.
Like my grandfather he too has left us but the simple act of bringing fun and wonder into the lives of others is a legacy which I cherish.   

A tribute to Papua New Guinean writers of old

BY REGINA DORUM

MOST OF US TAKE THIS COMPUTER AGE for granted. I couldn’t help but admire those authors from the ‘50s, ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s. Man, talk of using typewriters and handwriting drafts! It must have been a pretty mega headache with more time spent on dictionaries and libraries.
They are hardworking and committed people and we the current generation must appreciate their work fully and truly. For such men as Vincent Eri, Sir Paulias Matane, Sir Albert Maori Kiki, Sir Ignatius Kilage, John Kasaipwalova, Russell Soaba and others where English is but a second language, I cannot help but admire them.
As Papua New Guineans, we truly should be proud of them. They thought and thought and searched and searched. The library became their home and the dictionary their bible. The countless hours of work they did for us, their future generations, so we could have an insight into their lives and appreciate their work.
I always thought that writing a book is easy, just like reading it—especially fiction. Now I will never look at it the same way again. You simply have to appreciate every word written, its uses in descriptive writing that captures your imagination and draw the authors view into your mind.
Most times when I read books, I just read for the story that it tells but not with a writer’s eyes.  I never really valued their evocative words that embed the picture into my mind.
Now that I am almost in the middle of my book, I went back to re-reading my novels— this time with a writer’s eyes— and I am overwhelmed with the play of words and their proficiently in the turns and twist of events.
The first time I entered the Crocodile Prize, I mentioned that anyone can be a writer, but I take back those words. Anyone can, but you have to learn and grow each time you write.
You have to put your thinking caps on and express yourself in a way that your readers will fully comprehend what your intentions are. Anyone can be a writer, but then, not just anyone. It takes a lot of self-discipline and courage and a lot of brain-wrecking moments.
When I started writing my book, I just wrote as the words came and I was sort of full of pride—at first. But then as I wrote on, pressure built up. I had to research to describe everything from my character’s clothes to their houses to food to everything that we take for granted.
Man, it was hell of a job and still is. Sometimes I would stare into space for hours just thinking and looking a bit lost, even in between conversation. My friends thought I was on my way to Laloki Mental Institute!
I went back on re-reading my books; I found out that my first ten thousand words were rubbish! Yes, I got the story, but hell, I was not descriptive enough! I had to re-read, rewrite and re-read and re-write! And as I wrote on, new characters entered and my location changed and villages had to be made into cities and east had to be west! Directions and maps gave me the biggest headache.
From one article I read on writer’s guidelines, there are no laws when you write a fiction. You can write whatever you please but you cannot lie or break your own rules either. Some things had to be true so that you capture your reader’s attention and make them want to find out more. I had to make my characters and their lives real and it is very frustrating.
Once I was reading a Stephen King novel and at the end, he gave insights into being a writer. He mentioned how he had to write his drafts thirty times to finally get it right. God help me if I will write my book thirty times! I have not even completed the first draft!
I would like to thank the writers of the past for this inspiration and hope that many Papua New Guineans use the opportunity we have and be like them, or even greater. And I would like to express my sincere gratitude to PNG Attitude for giving us modern and young PNG writers  inspiration and assistance. No dream is bigger than us.

You play with words, in your minds.
So that we may comprehend
You wrote them down
So that we may recollect
You put inspiration into our hearts
So that we can be like you
You sat up sleepless hours
So that your dreams may come into life
Now you are our shining star
So we are grateful
Thank you.


Thanks to PNG Attitude for permission to reproduce parts of Regina Dorum's and Emma Wakpi's work here.