Nostalgic Mt Hagen Bliss

6 11 2010

I don’t know why but my mind takes me back to another lifetime.
Back in the day when Mt Hagen was like THE BEST place you could ever live in.
Back when Tribes Theatre premiered movies round about the same time it hit the cinemas of Oz – thats right Village Roadshow, baby.
Sony Walkmans were the IT thing then and teenage boys from the neighborhood would go to the movies not only for its entertainment value but to learn dance moves so they can try to beat each other on break dance (yes we caught the vibe before you even had the nerve to leave the comfort of your dad’s balls). But alas, they were doomed the minute Joe Markham moon-walked into the ring, because try as they could, he’d still whop their ass with his trademark spin-the-top finale. I don’t know what it’s called these days though.

Back then we would count our money  in factors of 80 toea because that was how much it cost you to be on roller skates for an hour at YMCA.
We wagged school to go fishing,
Or even go on some very noisy hikes up to Kum Cave, only to be chased and sometimes beaten up by the Solo Aks home bodies,
TV was not in our vocab then but we watched taped recordings of “Young Talent Time” at the tradestore/video-haus down the road and perhaps some of us, had a crush on young Dannii Minogue a bit.

Back then, we had our very own version of the State of Origins in the form of the Zone Trials. Just living next door to Bobby Ako gave me enough credibility amongst my dirt-magnet squad who swallowed everything I said hook, line and sinker, no matter how tall the tale. Except when Koivi (Ako) was there to refute some facts and we’d end up in a biff. The Kumuls line-up then was usually  read aloud first on the radio.That was when men like Henry Bagme would smash his brand new 2-speaker stereo to bloody smithereens upon hearing his name as the man who’d be donning the No.1  jumper for the red, black and gold.

Ahhh those were the days. My golden era.

Yes, but there is this tale told of a time even before that bygone era when a small kid round about 4/5 strayed onto the road after crawling under the gate. Just then a moustachioed man with a fro rolled up in his Range and got out of his car and knelt down beside the kid and with a gentle voice and  a tinge of a smile asked him where his house was and the kid mutely  pointed to the gate  in front. He picked him up, brushed him and led him by his hand to the gate and asked if anyone was inside.  The distraught mother upon seeing this man at the gate came rushing out more flustered this time then alarmed that this man would even bother to stop for a child. He handed the hand of the kid over to his mother with two K20 notes in his dirty little paws. After exchanging a few pleasantries, this gentleman left soon after.

Come to think of it, he carried the people  rather than the other way around. Such was the mettle of a man who was a leader in every sense of the word.

~ero~

Of course the mastachioed man was Paul Pora!

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5 responses

8 12 2010
Monpi

The hagen of my childhood….:(

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8 12 2010
dreamzmedia

bygone days never to return but buried in the memories of time…

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27 03 2011
Scott

My memories of Mt.Hagen were that of shops that sold story books of fairy tales with cassette tapes. What you couldn’t get in Goroka, you’d get in Hagen. I knew of a town with houses and streets that didn’t have fences, green lawns and clean streets. What the f*@$ happened, man?

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28 03 2011
dreamzmedia

Ah yes bro. John Foster’s book shop. Best ever and now its gone, replaced by some computer shops. I loved the comics and magazines stand. We had The Phantom, Mandrake the Magician, Commando, Marvel and those True Crime Detective magazines. Every afternoon saw the security guards ‘winim iau blo mi’ for reading when I was supposed to only browse. 🙂 lol… But I lived for those afternoons.
Fences and green lawns are all gone. Sorre part. Now the landscape is defaced by those sheet metal fencing and sometimes brick walls that are such eyesores.
Simply ghastly sights! 😦

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28 03 2011
Monpi

Scott, the apes that call themselves “lidas” happened!

John Fosters was the bomb! I spent many hours there getting my grubby little fingers on anything I could read in that joint!

Then we stocked up on the good stuff from the market and walked home to Warakum….no fear of robbery and rape!

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