Papua New Guinea

16 September is Papua New Guinea’s Independence Day. The largest section of the country is the eastern half of the island New Guinea (the western part consists of the Indonesian provinces Papua and West Papua) and there are also a lot of islands that belong to the nation. Prior to independence, Papua New Guinea was self-governing for two years before, in 1975, gaining full independence from Australia. I have a few friends who have lived in Papua New Guinea and tell me it is incredibly beautiful—I’m hungry to go there myself. There are hundreds of indigenous languages—over 800 actually, more than any other countries—and traditional societies. It’s a corner of the world that hasn’t been explored as much as—well, most other areas of the world. I’m torn between wanting to leave it that way, and wanting to know more. As well as having an urge to visit it myself. Maybe it’s all the volcanoes—eruptions are frequent, and volcanic activity fascinates me.

You think of it as a small island, don’t you? Well, it’s really not that small—the country is bigger than California.

It looks like other people have been happy with Papua New Guinea—for about 50,000 years. Oh, and I’m thrilled to read that Papua New Guineans developed agriculture independently, domesticating plants thousands of years ago. Subsequent developments? Around 500 BCE there was a migration of Austronesian peoples to the coast of New Guinea, and they brought the winning combination of pottery, pigs and new fishing techniques. More recently, after Europeans had been kicking around the region for a while, the sweet potato arrived, pretty well replacing taro as the staple.

Papua New Guinea is a member of the commonwealth—that means that, yes, Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom is still the official head of state, and she is represented on the ground by the Governor-General. Of course, the real power is in the hands of the Prime Minister.

People of course know that Australia is blessed with a veritable menagerie of marsupials—Papua New Guinea also has a lot of marsupials, closely related to Australian species. Do yourself a favour—look at tree kangaroos. They are wonderful.

Today’s Papua New Guinean poem is by Loujaya Kouza and comes from Nuanua: Pacific Writing in English Since 1980.


The Expatriate

He was what folks called
an expat-ri-ate
And when he came to visit
chose to sit on Mother’s mat
And called it ex-qui-site.

He didn’t eat taro, fish or rice
Just sat and said
“The food looks nice.”

He refused every drop
of what we gave him to drink
He doesn’t take water
I solemnly think.

Until at last it was time to go
he bowed and said Thank you
for so and so.

Mother quietly whispered and said
‘He didn’t touch a thing I cooked
nor take a drop to drink
There’s something awful queer
about these expat-ri-ates
I think.’

—Loujaya Kouza
from Nuanua: Pacific Writing in English Since 1980

Solomon Islands

Growing up in Australia I heard a lot about the Solomon Islands—especially about Bougainville, and autonomous region where civil war raged through much of the 1990s—Australian troops were involved in peacekeeping and truce monitoring, and the conflict ended after New Zealand brokered negotiations. A few years ago one of my brothers, a reservist, talked about the possibility of a tour of duty there, but it never happened. I was in high school for most of the conflict, and so it was something in the air, but it floated in and out of my awareness while grunge took a more permanent position in my life. And violence hasn’t stopped—in 2003 Australia led a multi-national force to restore peace and disarm militias. But then, I feel like that’s not atypical even now—most people would have some awareness of the situation in Iraq or Zimbabwe, but are likely to have only the haziest notion of other conflicts going on in other parts of the world—and, even in the politically aware DC, are probably at least as likely to be able to tell you what celebrity scandals are going on this week. But the Solomon Islands are, so to speak, in Australia’s backyard—so, like happenings in East Timor, Indonesia and Papua New Guinea, they get our attention. In the last few years unrest has continued, and international presence has continued.

The Solomon save been populated for thousands of years—the United Kingdom only established its claim in the form of a protectorate in the 1890s, until self-government arrived in 1976 followed quickly in 1978 by independence. So on 7 July the Solomon Islands celebrate Independence Day.

On the Pacific front, World War II saw intense fighting in the Solomon, with the Allied Forces launching naval campaigns and amphibious landings on islands in the group in 1942, battling against the Japanese Imperial Force.

After the war ended, the independence movement arose—Maasina Rua organised a campaign of civil disobedience and strikes, leading to the jailing of the movement’s leaders. Other indigenous dissident groups arose in the 1950s until gradually the islands gained more authority over their governing.

Last year in April an earthquake occurred and was followed by tsunami—the death toll was relatively low, but thousands of people were left homeless.

During my music degree I studied ethnomusicology for a while—it’s something that I’d like to go back to. At the time it was a minor part of my studies (though I wrote a rather passionate essay deriding exploitation of ethnic music for “Pygmy Pop”) but I’m increasingly interested in it. Not in that hip “world music of the week” way—but in the role music plays in different cultures. During the course of my studies I listened to quite a few recordings from the Solomons—their music is beautiful. Some of this music was used by Deep Forest for “Sweet Lullaby” and there was some controversy over this appropriation of local ethnographic musics. For anyone wanting to look it up, the original music that Deep Forest used is beautiful on its own.

A number of poets have their work available in English—the piece I have chosen is by Celo Kulagoe and comes from the anthology Nuanua: Pacific Writing in English Since 1980.


Where Leaves Had Fallen

The tree can only be seen
Where it stands.

The eye with the axe
Is also that with the chain
To cut and to haul down.

Each man with a finger
Would pick up a piece
And drag it home,
To dress, burn or ignore.

The lumber-man, he picks up
The trunk to chew,
While the squatter builds a hut
With the branches
To dream in.

The twisted twigs are only
What the old hag could bear
Down to her pot of stew,
Leaving the white chips
To the birds to cast
Over the lake as seeds.

But the gardener, he fights the wind
For the leaves—
The sight of experience
To read from their palms,
Their veins swollen with knowledge.
Their strength feeds the stump
To a new shoot.

—Celo Kulagoe
from Nuanua: Pacific Writing in English Since 1980

Samoa

The Independent State of Samoa gained its independence from New Zealand on 1 January in 1962—but they celebrate their independence day on 1 June.

Samoa was settled around 3000 years ago, when South East Asian peoples migrated towards the Pacific Islands. In the early days, as Tui Manu’a, Samoa ruled most of the pacific islands region for a time—and Tonga and Fiji took on Samoan influences. Tonga freed itself from Tui Manu’a, and eventually formed the empire of Tu’i Tonga around 950 CE, in turn dominating Samoa for a long period.

European contact began in the 18th century, as it did for much of the region of Oceania. The Dutchman Jacob Roggeveen sighted the islands in 1722, and the French explorer Louis-Antoine de Bougainville visited (and named them the Navigator Islands) in 1768. Contact was irregular until the 1830s when English missionaries and traders began arriving. At the end of the 19th century, the French, British, German and Americans all showed interest in the islands as a refuelling station for coal-fired shipping.

At the turn of the twentieth century the islands were split in two parts—the eastern group is still under American rule, as American Samoa. The western islands were German Samoa (Britain gave up its claim in return for Fiji). In 1914, New Zealand forces landed and seized control, and they continued to control Samoa until 1962.

Oh, and Samoa has produced some kick ass Rugby Union and Rugby League players.

Today’s poem by Caroline Sinavaiana comes from the anthology Nuanua: Pacific Writing in English Since 1980.



War News

     small flag of white lace
     hands from barbed-wire
     fence, which keeps the ducks in
     all safe among teuila /
     red ginger, and banana trees.

     at the lagoon, i wash clothes
     on black rocks, bowled lava, 
     glad for small discoveries: 
     if you fold them into quarters first,
     your blue jeans won’t trail
     in the muddy pebble bed.

radio voice drifts down the early morning breeze:

LAST NIGHT, AN AMERICAN WARSHIP SHOT DOWN
A PASSENGER AIRLINER OVER THE PERSIAN GULF.

beyond the clothesline, a congress of chickens
mill about pecking grass seeds,
one brown hen teaching wee chicks
the art of pecking coconut from the half-shell;
two offspring listen rapt / one foot each
planted in today’s    lesson

290 PEOPLE DEAD. PRESIDENT REAGAN DECLINES TO
COMMENT. VICE-PRESIDENT BUSH DECLINES TO
ISSUE APOLOGY.

in the mangrove swamp, shadowy wings
disturb the dark air:
     matu’u / reef heron,        and once
     god of war, now ascending /
     his ablutions       complete,
          to survey the day’s grim business
          out       across the mudflats,           where pigs
          love to root at low tide

—Caroline Sinavaiana
from Nuanua: Pacific Writing in English Since 1980

Indigenous Australia

13 February 2008 is a day many Australians have been awaiting for a long, long time: our new Prime Minister Kevin Rudd made an official apology to the indigenous peoples of Australia. This is not an act of independence, but I think it qualifies for this project as a national day, one which is a major step in the process of reconciliation.

The text of Kevin Rudd's speech is widely available and I hope you have seen or read it.

In 1990, University of Queensland Press published The Honey-Men's Love Song and other Aboriginal Song Poems, a collection of song-poems presented both in their original dialects, and in translation. The poem I'm including here is a Dyirbal song - the language is from North Queensland, in the Cairns rainforest region. The song was performed by Jimmy Murray in 1967, and translated by R M W Dixon. The volume gives the following note as context:

"In the very early days of contact, Aborigines saw a white girl wearing a red dress with white spots. They had never seen anything quite like this and made up a song about it, with dancers imitating the movements of the girl" (6).

The Red Gown

The red gown we see is like a butterfly
A red gown that catches the eye
THe red gown we see is like a butterfly

Red gown dancing in joy
A red gown that catches the eye
The red gown we see is like a butterfly

Red gown dancing in joy
A red gown that catches the eye
The red gown we see is like a butterfly
Red gown dancing in joy



-performed Jimmy Murray, 1967 (Girramay dialect)
translated from the Girramay by R M W Dixon
published in The Honey-Men's Love Song and other Aboriginal Song Poems, UQP

New Zealand

Today is New Zealand's Waitangi Day (which is sometimes called New Zealand Day): it celebrates the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840, the founding document of New Zealand.

As an Australian, New Zealand is often on my mind: we're well known for claiming New Zealanders as Australians when they've had success - Russell Crowe, for example. (A good friend of mine from New Zealand, however, says "you can have him.") Crowded House, too - but hey, they were Melbourne-based for a while, and had a Melbourne drummer. The one that always amuses me the most is that after Jane Campion made "The Piano" (about New Zealand, by a New Zealander!) we started talking about her as an Australian filmmaker.

The same friend that told me Australia can keep Russell Crowe also introduced me to the poetry of Bill Manhire, who is one of the best and best-known contemporary New Zealand poets. When I was looking around for a poem to include here, I found on the University of Otago's site the oration given by Professor Alan Musgrave when an honorary Doctoral Degree was conferred on the poet. That's also where I found this poem.


Milky Way Bar

I live at the edge of the universe,
like everybody else. Sometimes I think
congratulations are in order:
I look out at the stars
And my eye merely blinks a little,
my voice settles for a sigh.

But my whole pleasure is the inconspicuous;
I love the unimportant thing.
I go down to the Twilight Arcade
and watch the Martian invaders,
already appalled by our language,
pointing at what they want.

Bill Manhire