The haunting

BY EMMA WAKPI

IT WAS ONCE TOLD TO ME that oft times beneath the veneer of great beauty and wealth are hidden insatiable debaucheries that destroy. They are manifested in various forms that seem harmless at first but which eventually, if not checked and corrected will overpower and devastate.

………………

Five a.m. and we’re landing in Port Moresby. I look out of the plane window and watch the wakening sun tinge the rising mist a soft gold; I am home after two weeks of workshops in Manila.

As I get up and collect my gear I remember the chivalrous gestures of strangers there; men who opened doors for me, who got up to offer me seats on public transport, male friends who grabbed shopping bags from my hands carrying them for me - acts that seemed as natural as breathing to them but which made a world of difference to me, giving me a sense of worth and security.

Their courteous recognition gratified and prompted me to also want to treat others with respect. The pleasure which this memory evokes makes me smile and it gets broader at the feeling of belonging that is washing over me as I am surrounded by familiar imagery and faces.

Going through customs I grin at my wantoks, say a good morning and make my way outside. However once outside I lose the grin and file away the memories, for I must now contend with the dawn of my reality.

The light hearted, carefree feeling is slowly rising up out of me like the mist clearing on the tarmac and wariness sets in.

My mind and body move into auto pilot, “careful Emma, smile briefly at those guys, say a quick morning- keep your eyes down, walk steadily, act like you know the place - it’s your territory, stride confidently but ooze humbleness- pretend you’re taking that lint of your shoulder, steal a covert glance, no one is following, none look too threatening, okay breathe- walk; smile; you’re fine, you’ve reached your destination – you’re safe…” 

Until I have to detach myself from that secure zone and stealthily make my way to another.  “Welcome home,” I whisper to myself, “This is your life”. I love my country, I love my people, but I am haunted; and I am weary oh so weary.

There is a menacing overbearing presence that haunts my being every time I step away from my safe zones (home, family, friends, work); its’ clammy tentacles reach out and tunnel deep into my heart and mind and it tries its best to strangle any goodwill I might have toward the faceless populace surrounding my peripheries. Sometimes it’s very obscure, other times it screams its presence- it wants to possess me, infiltrate my very core and define me by its standards.

It not only haunts me, the entire nation groans and is slowly suffocating beneath its smothering presence.

This haunting seems to be rising from within the core of Papua New Guinea, surreptitiously extending its tentacles into every aspect of society and manifesting itself in various forms; whole mountains are being unceremoniously hacked to pieces, river systems defecated upon in the name of prosperity and local people elbowed aside and ridiculed as uncivilised, then officiously patronized through “programs” and “projects” and other various handouts to placate dissenting voices that might have echoes of truth.

It causes the country, pregnant with untapped intelligence and aptitude to prematurely abort its potentials and to term them “failures” haughtily condemning them to the fringes of society. Law and Justice are also slowly being strangled by the grip of these clammy tentacles and the nation is slowly being brought to its knees.

There has to be a way to exorcise this “haunting” before it casts me forever into the abyss of despair and chokes the life out of this nation.

How can I fight an enemy I can’t see, can’t understand? I know it manifests itself in various forms and has me hacking away at them but from whence lieth its source and how can I clearly identify it in order to exorcise it? The only clue that I have is that it seems to be reverberating from within the core of this country- its’ people, including me.

As I step out of my safe zones, I fight the fear within me and rather than rushing past the faceless mass, I now force myself to take the time to look, listen and mingle. As I do this, I notice that amid the war cries, screams and moaning echoing around me a soft hypnotic chant weaves itself in and out of every society and ethnicity within this country. It is so glaringly obvious, it goes unnoticed - the haunting is me-it is you; us… 

Imprinted deep within my psyche are a set of beliefs that (should I allow it to) will ply me until I manifest its decrees with detrimental consequences to myself and the society at large. Throughout this vast country there are core beliefs that seem to be common to all, whether educated or not – from highlands to coast to islands, whether male or female, young or old. 

The haunting chants them out incessantly from within us, “men are of more value than women”  true, true, true; “animistic beliefs are real” true, true, true; “might is right - Big Man mentality rules” true, true, true; “Fatalism is a way of life, what can you change?” true, true, true; “promiscuity and lies are a way of life” true, true, true.

And I listen, and you listen and we allow it to possess and hypnotise us, becoming slaves who stomp rhythmically to its chants until we are jarred awake by some incident that pricks at our conscience; yet the wave of the chant carries us forward in a death grip marching us toward the precipice to throw us into the abyss of hopelessness that is the manifestation of these chants – AIDS, violence, drug abuse, political upheaval, tribal warfare, police brutality etc., etc.

I realise it is futile to hack away at the manifestations that the haunting produces if I don’t address the root beliefs ingrained in me since birth. I must dig deep into the recesses of my heart and mind and pry away the grip of the cursed chant – I must uproot it in order to exorcise it.

I cannot let a belief system that is destroying me (and my country) dictate my life. I have to think for myself and question whether what is “pasin”, is really right.

I must sing a new song of hope and strength – my war cry, “men and women are of equal value” true, true, true; “science and education will enlighten” true, true, true; “humility and integrity will achieve respect” true, true, true; “where there is a will there is a way- life can get better” true, true, true; “family stability and unconditional love can birth a fulfilling life” true, true, true!

Until I am sure that I have dealt with all these issues that haunt me, I cannot point fingers and lay the blame on others because how I live and interact within the greater society contributes to its overall wellbeing.

Jarred from my death march I fight to break free; I’m struggling against the masses at times almost trampled underfoot but continue to elbow through, and will do so until I die. I cannot accept this reality and march with the horde - life is short and I don’t want to live it out in fear and despair. I must fight. 

As I resist and raise my war cry against the chant I hear faint echoes of it rising up from every direction. Struggling to catch a glimpse I find faces amongst the throng and as we sight each other, understanding dawns and strength is garnered anew and we turn back to resume our stance and to struggle on; I will continue to raise my voice against the chant and keep forging my way, I glimpse hope…

…………………

Beliefs begat behaviours resulting in the consequences of the society we live in today.  I am told that my country is a beautiful and wealthy country, rich in culture and natural resources. What lies beneath its surface?

Comments

[Peter R Jokisie]

I've been doing some little philosophical study into the theme of your writing and like you said what really lie beneath our society's foundation and how it affects our life is something that haunts all of us. We gotta change the we live, the way we socialize and the way we interact. Keep it coming Emma, great work. All the bests.

[John Fowke]

Poor old Huggins. Some must have known him well. Was he a teacher? Pity he cant dress his piffle up with a bit of stirring memoir.

More on the Pindiu Tennis Comp, for instance. Maybe old Col. Huff will be persuaded to come back and join in again. Lots of fun.

The great thing which Keith has achieved is the creation of a space in the world of blogs where literate, thinking PNGeans are increasingly willing to put out their thoughts and opinions and sign their names to these - as opposed to PNG-based blogs, which, full of sound and fury though they are - are also universally characterised by a parade of aliases.

Thus Attitude has forged a niche for free expression in regard to PNG affairs, something of great value.

Howsat for a bit of gris, Masta Kit?

And although Attitude suffered initially from the contributions of some really stupid white men these seem to have died off. Largely.
_________

Gutpela giris ia. We look forward to more expositions from the long absent and much missed Col. Huff on the good old days and how they have been sadly let down by the frolicking nonentities of the modern era - KJ

[Paul Oates]

You can't find an effective solution until you define the problem. Emma has successfully defined the problem. Who is there now who will come up with a workable solution?

Don't even think about mouthing motherhood statements and platitudes. A workable solution please.

[Phil Fitzpatrick]

I totally agree with John Fowke's comments, especially about hoping lots of people read Emma's excellent essay.

I would not like to be a woman in PNG, in the village or the city. Emma has crystallized the reasons perfectly.

I can't for the life of me work out what Colin is carrying on about. Perhaps he should read the essay again.

[Mrs Barbara Short]

Emma has picked up on five good lies which appear to be part of the current PNG mind-set.

John, I'm sure these haunting lies can also be heard by the male members of PNG society today.

We keep hearing that it is the "big men" who will get elected in the coming elections. I assume it is these so called "big men" who are pushing these lies.

I would prefer to hear that "men/women with integrity" will get elected.

There also seems to be a current mind set that "men are more suitable as members of the parliament".

Let us hope that one day "humility and integrity will achieve respect" in PNG and people will believe that "men and women are of equal value".

I feel it happened in the past. Why not now?

[Colin Huggins]

My God, dear John. You have just made Sir Humphrey Appleby look like a kindergarten kid.

You will have to explain all what you have expressed, as a person of limited knowledge of how to express myself, I am completely baffled.

I do hope the readers can fathom out what Sir Humphrey is relaying to people as "stupid" as I? I hope Emma and Barbara can work it all out.

Is there a new return of "Yes Minister" and are you preparing for the Appleby role? You should be a "shoo in"! Good luck with the auditions, mate.

[John Fowke]

An evocative, masterful exposition of the psychology and the psyche of being a female member of this society where, without recourse to privileges which insulate and enable a comforting blanket of security, one is ( if female) a life prisoner in a gaol with walls made of muttering and threat-filled looks and male admonishments.

I hope lots of people read this, Emma.

[Mrs Barbara Short]

Thanks Emma for this glimpse into the problems of the current PNG mindset, with its haunting lies, that have to be exposed and denied. All I can add is "keep the good and throw out the bad."