TAKE A STEP FORWARD EACH DAY & THE VIEW CHANGES AT EVERY TURN YOU TAKE.

The anthology that I worked on for my Creative Writing major project had to be comprised of five poems, two short stories, a play and my dad's autobiography (Part I). Creative writing was one of three electives I took from the School of Social Science and Humanities (SHSS) at the University of Papua New Guinea (UPNG). It was second semester, 2017 during my final year studies.

I presented the poems to my lecturer for corrections. She asked earlier if we would bring our first drafts to her for further guidance. All my poems seemed beautiful and it even placed me to an edified excitement. The meter sounds of poetry is one thing; all of mine sounded perfectly exceptional. After having glanced through the poems just once however; my lecturer told me I went off-track.

Off-track; how? I had a disoriented feeling. I was lost as I had so much confidence on my poems. I was confident that I would return with uplifting compliments; at least some words that would foster my effort on the remaining touches, yet it was cynical.

To myself, the poems I brought to here were the best; but to her they were not. She wanted all my poems to be replaced with better ones. She further advised that I needed to come down to my level and write like a student. 

Come down to my level like a student? What other level was my level? I did this as a student, didn't I? Does this mean I did like an expert? It was all conflicting. Honestly, I expected a clear and heartening compliment about my  poems, but what she gave wasn't expected. The funny thing though was I got her in a whole different way too; as of course I did it  beyond my typical level. I felt hyper about myself immediately. 

I thought she meant I did it impeccably better, even perhaps at the exact level of how a specialist poet would do. I was never really told explicitly of why my poems didn't have to have rooms in my anthology. But I even looked down on my fellow students to some point because I thought that maybe I did it better like a lecturer or a poet would. 

But today, I see the same poem again and its thoroughly a different feeling I have; discreditable in fact. It contains a lot of errors. Its funny seeing the diction of every stanza swaying back and forth, making it impossible to tell where exactly the style or the voice is? Every line of each stanza tries to utterly serve the meter, which however; parades a thin rhythm. The themes been over looked merely for the meter as it seems. Obviously the central idea has been compromised through thoughtless collections of main ideas that further jeopardize the line structures of each stanza. 

She never told me my mistakes that moment. That's where she (my lecturer) was wrong. But I was the big piece of crap to think that I was any smarter than my fellow students or rather be equal to/with the lecturers. Shameful! From up here, the view is thoroughly different.  

But, what's good about this? My poem indicates how I viewed poetry those days. The current view is indeed different from the view then. This only portrays that the view changes at every turn you take moving forward.

What's my hobby? READING & WRITING! @2021

HOW I LEARNT ABOUT AUTOMATIC TRANSMISSION CARS REMAINS NOW A MEMORY TO REMEMBER FOREVER!!

 

Late Captain Sanol Kyakagen During
his Pilot Training in New Zealand. 

As a first timer in POM, I didn't know a lot of places. I had no where else to go. It was around early Feb.in 2014. I got registered at school (UPNG) already, but before classes began I stayed at my Aunt’s place for a few more days. 

 I was so anxious that I would see the big buildings, nice cars, the famous Ela Beach and the sea and of course the whole city. I have heard a lot of nice stuffs about POM that got me restless even the night before I traveled.  Sadly however, my aunt and my uncle were both working. 

 We would go out in the afternoon a few times, but only for better reasons; like to buy groceries. They were both elderly and respectable and would focus more on better things than to go out for fun and see places. Since I was new, I locked myself up; water plants, watched a lot of TV programs, eat and sleep and stayed home.  

 In the middle of one of this big-yawn days, I had a call coming in on my phone. It was from a new number. I never had a lot of people’s contacts or neither did many have mine. I didn’t expect a lot of calls those days. Out of curiosity I quickly tapped on the answer key to know who it was. 

 As I placed the phone closed to my right ear, the first word came through was “Kami (brother).” It was clearly from a guy, but the voice was quite unrecognizable. I couldn't quickly tell who it was. I asked if it was someone I knew, or was a relative? 

 He (the person called) didn’t give me a positive response yet, not as quickly as I wanted to hear. He tried to bring me back to a point where he got my contact digits. He asked if I remembered us being together in my place in 2013 Christmas? And finally he went on and asked “Kami, Namb Willie Kaimining Andak Hul Kandep Kareyaban Dok Masyilyip Daah?”

 This made me remember everything at once and of course knew who was on the phone too. I deeply apologized for not picking up his voice quickly. I felt so down. Realizing it was actually him making the effort to call made me so humble. 

 Frankly, I couldn’t really believe that he called. He's not the kind of person you would want for him to call while you wait. He was a man of respectable traits. He said he was calling to find out if I was free so he could take me out to go around and see places. Following captures a few pieces of our conversation that day that lingers fresh as if it went down just yesterday; number of years gone never erase a good memory.

    Him: Kami, you free or doing something?

    Me: Kami, mi slip kirap lo house tasol ya.

    Him: Aiyooo, Kaimi Nabaen Yarae eret. Wanpla kisim you raun lo city finish too or nogat?

    Me: Kaimi nogat ya. Bel sigirap stret lo go tasol hard ya. Mi no save lo ples too na stap tasol lo house .   

    Him: Now yet you stap lo where? 

    Me: Me stap lo wanpla ples ol kolim Korobosea, but mi no klia tumas how lo givim details. Em mas 

            sampla ap beksait lo bikpla hausik ating. 

   Him: Okay my brother, now worries. I know where that is. Come out to somewhere I can see you.

 ....anyway, to cut it all short he came in a gray car (Toyota Camry) and picked me up. Now I know it was 2mile road that we went down through Koki and Badili to downtown. He showed me where Koki Market was, the famous Ela Beach and downtown and its pretty tall buildings. We kept moving and drove passed Konedobu to Hola through poreporena freeway. 

 As we took on the free way, the car picked up on its speed so strangely. There were no gear shifts. I wondered how that was possible. To a village guy who just moved in to Port Moresby, this was thoroughly an unusual thing happened. I used to think every car, big or small, has the same transmission sets (first to fifth). 

I sat nearside him and looked at his lags, his harms and his face back and forth and again.  He barely touched the gear. His both hands were on the steering wheel and eyes focused on the road. The roaring engine on the mountain affirmed that one of his legs was on the accelerator crushing it. But I was still confused how! I was on board a few times when my aunt was driving, but clearly I never noticed this one.

"Kami, how is that possible; you're kind of putting me through a lot of questions" I asked. I further asked if he could tell me why the car just gassed-up without having the gears shifted.  He just laughed and laughed again. He finally looked at me and said "Kaim, Welcome to Port Moresby."

Late Captain Sanol Kyakagen was a great young man of super leadership qualities. He had a lot of friends; some of whom were of very low standards, but he never cared. He would treat everyone in a way where those around him feels equally accepted. In his stunning charm, you would share your thoughts, crack jokes and laugh out loud freely. He was surely on his way up to flying above the horizons. So sadly however; he went to his eternal sleep - the most painful thing ever happened that left everyone whom he loved & treasured in so much pain and heartbroken.

Death is indeed a painful intruder. It only leaves us brokenhearted in great agony. A lot of people say time heals and yes it does. But what it doesn't are the  memories created; they linger forever. Late Captain S. Kyakagen had a lot of memories with his family members and and friends on which as they ponder they shed tears.  

To me, I can't easily forget that fine day when he lit up the whole world.  I can't forget the expression when he said "Kaim, Welcome to Port Moresby." He was the first guy who showed me that automatic transmission cars exist. And of course he was the first to show me many parts of Port Moresby too.

Every time I see an automatic transmission car or when someone talks about it, or when I travel down or up the poreporena freeway that endless simper on his face gets played in my mind over and over again. Our best moment was about 7 years ago, but it still lingers fresh and it ever will like it happened only yesterday. Not only this in me, but I hope you have left thousands of memories in the hearts of many. 

KAMI NABAEN AMEH, REST EASY IN ETERNAL PEACE  😭 😭💔💔

ALWAYS STAY HUMBLE!

  Nothing that goes up stays there forever! Life is NOT a Competition! A Humble & Content Person always Lives a Happy Life!

You don't remain healthy forever!

You don't remain wealthy forever!

You don't remain happy forever!

You have your time to lose weight!

You have your time to lose health!

You have your time to lose wealth!

You bloom,

You glow,

You gloom,

You will need a friend,

You will need an hand,

You will need a help to stand,

Do NOT let your money and your wealth make you think Sky-9 is your eternal throne. NOTHING THAT GOES UP STAYS THERE FOREVER! Even the great heroes have fallen. As humans on earth, we are meant to to rise and fall. Do NOT underestimate your fellow brethren. Always Stay Humble & Happy!

SOME ATTITUDES NEED TO BE CORRECTED IN A DIFFERENT WAY! NOT ALWAYS BY TELLING THEM!

When you ask them to understand you, they don't. When you ask them to feel you, they don't. When you tell the stories of your circumstances, they only feel the weight of theirs so much than yours. The impact is meager when you tell them. Put them at a situation where they feel you; where it open their eyes. Only then they will understand you! 

I received a text few days before going for 2020 Christmas holiday; it was one of my brothers back at home. This wasn't his first-time texting me. He's been requesting for my old shoe for quite a while. One thing about people back at home is when they ask for an old or a used stuff, they actually have in their mind a new one!

I explained to my brother several times that I didn't have any extra, but he insisted. I told him my old shoe was almost two years old and was slowly getting ripped off, but he still wanted it. Well, I didn't say much this time and I never replied to his text too. I told him enough. This time I knew exactly what to do when I get home and it was the right thing I could.

When I got home, I gently sat down on a wooden bench, pulled the pairs out of my legs and slid them over to him (my brother). I said "there you go bro, your shoe." He looked at the front, then rolled to the back, checked for the bottom surface, the inside covers, the sides and everywhere. He looked at the shoe thoroughly and realized it had so many ugly wriggles, weak supports and almost worned out!

His face turned into a mixture of frustration and sadness. Everyone in the house noticed his entire system not accepting my offer. He thought I would bring him a new shoe from Port Moresby. He thought that everyone who lives in POM City go around in flashy cars, wear shiny shoes, live in nice apartments and enjoy a dreamy life. What he doesn't understand is that most of us struggle our guts out every day in the city for survival. 

On the next day, I asked mom if I could borrow her pair of slipper. I had nothing to wear in the morning. I gave my broken shoe already out. Though I realized in the morning that the shoe was still there in the house, I couldn't put it on; I didn't even bother.  I thought my brother forgot to take it with him so he would come back for it anytime. But he never did. He came around the house a few times, but he didn't take the shoe with him. I put the shoe back on and I returned to Port Moresby with it. 

Having graduated with degree does not mean a cool job awaits. Getting a job at an entry level does not mean the pay grade is above the minimum. Despite all the truth behind people at home will still want things you can't even afford with your own paycheck. When you try to explain, it won't do any help. Teach them lessons through different ways.

REMEMBER,   YOU WILL NEVER BE BROKE WHEN PEOPLE SAY YOU'RE BROKE. YOU WILL NEVER BE A BAD PERSON WHEN PEOPLE SAY YOU'RE BAD JUST BECAUSE YOU DON'T BUY INTO THEIR DESIRES. SOMETIMES IT'S STILL OKAY TO MAKE DECISIONS IN LIFE THAT MAKE YOUR  OWN PEOPLE TURN AGAINST YOU!

SEVEN DAYS AFTER DEATH EXPERIENCE IS MY BIRTHDAY!

"Nothing could ever stand in the way of death, but My God did!"

On Thursday, the 4th of my birth month - February, 2021, I woke up to realize it was the Emergency Ward of Port Moresby General Hospital. And on the second week, it turns out that the same day is my birthday - exactly seven (7) days now from what should have been my deathday/dead-date. Should that be a coincidence?

Photos of My Birthday wishes from LinkedIn connections
 & the two at the top were taken when I was admitted to  
Port Moresby General Hospital on the 3rd of Feb, 2021    

It's creepy going down the path of death; you don't want go there.  Your hair rises, you have goosebumps all over your body. When you get down there you don't come back at all. It is a point of no return! Imagine those corps stored in the freezing mortuary at Port Moresby General Hospital right now? Would you dare wish to go have a try out for real at the stinky, dark & frosty-bound there? Surely NOT! But then one day, we will all end up at the place! For me, it was not just the right timing then on Thursday. I couldn't go yet!

In the world where we live, a lot of things aren't the same for everyone; paradise is not everywhere. I never for once thought to imagine what it's like in the minds of those on wheelchair and on life-support. I could never know the hunger within those who've lost all their strengths and can't talk, walk and do things on their own until I was there myself. It feels so different!

Around 08:00pm on the 4th of February, I could feel my whole body dying so fast! Wouldn't it be strange? I never felt any abnormalities in my whole body before the incident. But there was a huge numbness that spread so fast all over. Both my arms and legs couldn't move. My Jaws (upper & lower) came hard towards each other and my mouth was about to shut! I could feel my tongue travelling backwards in the windpipe. Yes, I could feel it right in my bones that I was just an inch away from death. But all the Thanks and Praises to my GOD that  I clearly didn't die! 

This morning (11/02/2020), seven days after what happened on Wednesday last week, I opened up my PC to realize about more than forty notifications from my LinkedIn connections. All the way from the start down, it was just one phrase; 'Happy Birth Day.' Having received all these birthday wishes had me thinking, 'if I have had gone on that day last week it would definitely be a funeral today.' 

Being young and just graduated - yet to experience a lot of things, but died so soon would definitely leave my friends, my relatives and my connection friends so sad and broken. When death was fast approaching, it put me at a fair stance to realize that everything I once held so dear in this world would all be useless after I am gone. It became so real at this point that death comes to everyone. Well, it's all true. When we look at our youthfulness, that muscular body in a good health, career plans and other future focuses, it makes us forget thoroughly that we're mere mortals. 

It doesn't matter you're sick or in good health, death comes to everyone. What you have worked so hard and attained and those you have in plan to do never stands in its way. Today, I am so thankful for what happened to me then and forever I will be thankful as long as I live. Having a near-death experience gave me a new sight; a sight to see lots of things in a whole different way! I nearly died, but I am not dead. The death was closing in so fast, but my God of All-knowing stood in its way. He reversed death and gave me a life of fresh hope and renewed strength.

My GOD knows and He didn't want me being the same person turning another year older. Well,  a sad reality is that turning another year older means yet another year is removed off of the total number of years to live on earth. He wanted me to be a different person; a person who have experienced a glimpse of death and live the remaining span of life with new sight of hope and dependent on him who gives it all. I am happy that I just turned another year older. BUT ALL THAT I AM HAPPY FOR IS  TO HAVE THE LORD OF HOST STILL MY GOD!

ALL THE PRAISE & HONOR TO MY GOD OF ALL KNOWING!

SCARS WITHIN ARE ROADMAPS TO OUR SUNSHINE!

FAILURE COMES ONLY TO THE PEOPLE WHO BELIEVE WHEN OTHERS SAY 'YOU WILL FAIL.'

Where flowers bloom, so does hope. Smile is all around them. The fragrance in the hands that grasp roses attract a thousand bees, toiling to refine the hairs of ferries within walls. 

Conceited proprietor takes pride in one, two, or three blooming at the back yard. There are impenetrable stockades for the empire within and that never allows for even a single wave of a bird’s whistle. The entire sphere keeps on reminding him who constructs territory, the world is beautiful and the beauty is all his own creation.

I watched big birds taking off and sailing across open skies. Their children were roses in concrete gardens, beautiful and forlorn. Laughters ware the musics of their souls. A typical teenage boy’s heart had always been a disaster. My hopes were a fragile seed. I was lost in an ocean of limbless faces. To see a dry land wasn't so possible; to enjoy a sun shine seemed a thousand years walk towards no where.  It had always been a nightmare every single night. 

Going back and forth school seemed as only as beating a dead horse. Even then too I was running at a turtle phase in a race with an horse. I could have had that glow on my head like others. I watched a lot of people in the backyard when I had my golden days with dad. But it all changed when the sun stopped shining. Darkness crept in; sadness and displacement took over. The brokenness behind gave me a cold feet. I may appreciate a few though, not many ever showed me the tunnel out. My entire life was a broken-winged bird that could not fly.

Struggling through on the surface of that rough ocean hadn’t been so easy. Cruel tirades of my own relatives were the weapons with which I wounded. Those on the hilltops blew cold into my soul.   My heart would swell with tears every night. 

To the minds of the neighbors, I was going no where. Trying to climb the mountain was all a waste of time. They had evidences of past events. They witnessed my elder siblings failing and falling off. There was never a climber from where I started. But, I appreciate now it happened. The scars left in my heart were the roadmaps to the soul and so will they be. I thought life was a race, but it never was. The life is a battle. We fight to win not by defeating our own kind, but against human perceptions that think we can't make it. 

LIVE YOUR LIFE! NEVER RACE WITH OTHERS! YOUR WORLD IS YOUR OWN CREATION! WE ONLY ENJOY WHAT WE DESERVE. NOT WAHT WE WANT!

I NEVER KNEW WHO I RESEMBLE UNTIL I MET A STRANGE WOMAN!

 

Photograph of myself - 2020

ONE OF THE OLDERST  QUESTIONS I EVER HAD WAS "WHO'S IMAGE DO I CARRY?"

I am one of those many out there who lived with only one parent. For me it was my mom. That life was very eventful; things hadn't been that easy. Stuffs happened. A countless stories to be told later.  

To a bit of an extent, I recall a few things that are yet so obscure. I remember sitting on my dad's laps spinning around the steering wheel of a blue MITSUBISHI L200. I enjoyed those beautiful things dad used to bring home from Port Moresby and other big places. I remember dad connecting electricity home, powered by generator and  lighting up wooden houses. We could have our plates full of food varieties every single meal. I saw a lot of people living with us; most of them worked for us actually. I thought they were my relatives. They would treat me like better than special. During those days, I used to call someone a "Papa." And with him in the house, the few moments together had always been without showers.  

The 'Papa' name sounded so much better than sweet. No other name could ever replace that. Sadly however; it was removed of me and my other siblings just a few years after. For me, it must have been only two or three. That name wasn't mine to be called again. Mom said I wouldn't. The reason was certain too; there wasn't the Papa around anymore. We saw him taking a clear path when he left. Not as too often he leaves to POM, or not as for few days he stays out and return. This time we all witnessed him leaving and forever.  

Sadly it feels like a set of events that go by within seconds in a movie. I don't remember many things happened or done then with dad. Sometimes I try to rally stories and events together to ponder on, but a huge cloud veils my memory every time I try. I am lost to picture dad and his face  in my mind forever. We had many photo albums though. Most of them contained dad's photographs when he'd been working in Wewak, Aiyura and some other places. But I have no clue who took them. I never had a photo of him ever since.

I and my other siblings learnt to accept that our dad was gone. Maybe I'll see his face someday in the after life - if that's how it is out there. We well adapted.  Nothing ever reminded me of that better and a very short life we once had with dad anymore. It slept on as if all that sunrise with dad had just been a momentary rainbow stretched out on an afternoon shower. 

Sometimes when thoughts round me up my heart craves to see at least a picture of dad. Or to resemble his looks with any of us - his sons. I had this questions ever since "who do I resemble, my mom or my dad?" No one ever told me - not even my mom until I met a stranger few years back.

The 7th of January, 2017 was a momentous day ever. The rising sun above gloomy clouds of eastern horizon gave off an enduring smile of a great intensity. Its unbending rays through holes within walls interrupted our embraces on pillow in the highland's cold. The morning Melidectes of Lumbipaka heights flopping on tree branches and leavers reminded us of the greater inspirations to be given forth in that day at Kakaliaka Junction.   

In this place I was known to only the family that housed us. Nobody I knew ever lives there. I expected to meet no one. I was a complete stranger in that locality that moment. There's a distant aunty who lives there though. On this day her involvement was impossible. There's no way she got involved in what transpired that filled in a lasting gap in my whole life. 

We got our gears sat and rallied them down to the venue we were suppose to speak. We made an announcement to speak the other day afternoon, so, it wasn't a surprise when we saw a huge crowd already gathering around that place. I could hear people mummering and whispering to each other pertaining to what we were about to deliver. They showed so much interest. In this circumstance, we couldn't let a moment pass by, or couldn't we keep the huge crowd in suspense. 

For this event the entire week, I was the chairperson. I had to speak before the others, after and towards the end of awareness. While delivering speech at Kakaliaka, my eyes caught up with an elderly woman, who I noticed could never  for once look away. She fixed her eyes so hard on me. Sometimes she could give up a nice simper on her face, tapping on another elderly woman sitting next to her. She really posed a great interest on my presentations. 

Right after we closed the awareness with a word of prayer that strange, uneasy lady was already by my side holding me tight right across my abdomen. "Mama, emb nabaen ikining lam onk (so you are really that my son ah)." This lady put me to a stance of endless questions. She didn't give me options so I could choose from. She gave me no clue. She claimed with an extensive confidence. How could a strange lady from nowhere just call me her son? My mom never told me that she had a sister who got married to that place. I never saw this lady before - never in my lifetime. I was at a no man's land. And yet a strange lady could call me her son; how was that even possible?

As an elderly mother she quickly figured I was lost in my thoughts. She knew I needed answers for why she called me her son. And thus, she asked me "son do you think it's that hard to tell whose son you're and where you're from?" I couldn't interrupt when a strange lady was closing in on me with something I never heard before. "Namb Kaipae an andak taeg onk. Embaen mamam Kaipae Leng mend arom lesam sigip daa? (english: I am Kaipae's wife. Does your mother ever tell you about Kaipae)?"

This name 'Kaipae' immediately reminded me of my dad. My mother tells me of him (Kaipae). He used to be my dad's business partner and in some ways very related. Kaipae is from the tribe of Sai from Murip and had been one of the few major business men in my entire district around 1980s. I have heard of his name from my mom and others. He was my dad's closest friend, a relative and a business partner too. But during those days, I was never born yet. When this elderly mother said she was Kaipae's wife I could feel a conviction so easily within  my heart. It felt as if the the woman and I have known each other for a long time. 

She told me my forehead, my nose, my ears, my simper and the way I presented myself in speech were all exactly like my dad's. She said my dad used to have those which made it very possible for her to identify me so easily. No wonder now she called me son with so much confidence. No wonder she held me tight. Yes, she knew me better by my looks. She knew whose son I was; she knew where I was from. She knew I was my father's son. On this date, right at 12 o'clock noon she made me realize that I resemble my father.   

My message to the people reading: 

You may be living with your dad now, or you lost him already, or you never had one in your life. It does NOT matter. You're NOT a cross-breed species. You came to earth through a father and no matter what you still resemble your father's image! Do NOT Ever ask a lot of questions. Shout out & have it claimed heartily "I WAS, I AM & I WILL ALWAYS BE MY FATHER'S SON!"