Kone Tigers welcomes you to #PNG, 2012

30 12 2011

Another December day lies painted beneath tainted skies,
As he sits perched behind burials of precious tries.
Here where young minds with aged gaits loiter and linger.
Here of climes that see one ciggy tarry on many fingers –
Burnt yellowed, like quartered buai that abounds,
Here see balls of vivid dreams travel in silvered rounds
under the jingle of a Kina and curt handshakes.
Dazed and glazed, yet an intense gaze to remedy the shakes.

Here where men of today and the morrow wrestle
As a synthetic pigskin sees heat of battle,
Here where mud, silt, shit and gore knead a dirty dough.
Reckless and endless till skeletal fences; show no dough.
Where rustic refuse of bygone grandeur remain in a Toyota Crown chassis.
Simile of resplendent days from whence this spit is its basis.
Here to the legendary servitude of Kone Tigers Oval,
Hear the Same ol’, same ol’, nothing really novel.

A lull settles with the drawn out toke on the whistle,
Letting to surface the lisped hisses of savanna thistles,
As Akon stabs the cool breeze with yesterday’s pop
From speakers which sound more like a flop,
Spiking the air with fast love and a girl named Candy,
Drowning out Tom Lari and Ambai Sandy.
An ostentatious voice stabs Akon in turn
and visions of bubblegum wither and burn.

As Enga-laced, trynabbe Aussie speak rumble out,
in plastic vowels, like irritants on his fucking gout.
The assault continues under orders from conceit.

Thoughts under oath from Keats beat a retreat
as freestyle fancies a chance in this trance,
With free-fall and shit-talkin’ taking this dance.
The spirited breeze in the cool of the day wears thin,
Becoming oppressively languid until it is but a din.

Corniness pervades the air further at 5 O’clock.
Enter Michael Learns to Rock.
Hell No!
Fuck No!
Fuck this gay shit!
‘S’time to beat it.
I’m scribbling outta here.
Like this roller-coaster year.


Exeunt 2011!

PS: Thanks for the extra PM. Now the world cannot resist #PNG…or somethin… Be seeing y’all 2012…

Exeunt dreamzmedia!

  • Appropriately penned at “2pm”, 29/12/2011
The entrance to the Kone Tigers Oval preludes the disgrace that awaits within.

The entrance to the Kone Tigers Oval preludes the disgrace that awaits within.


In celebration of their 1000th tweet…

13 12 2011

Pride in our culture

30 11 2011

Since I have all your attention, I thought I will use this opportunity to share with you all my experiences on my special day.

On the 28th Nov. we took the highway to the north of Dunedin to a little Maori community called Karitane, and spent the night at the Marae (Community hall). At the Marae, we were welcomed by the community and exchanged breaths (Hongi).

It was an experience to meet an indigenous community so proud of their culture, but who had experienced challenges to their culture for hundreds of years. But they are a proud people, proud of their culture, proud of reviving what is left.

This brought to my mind that we are losing our culture and losing it fast too. We should be proud of who we [sic]. We must take pride in our language – teach it to our children. We must uphold our culture because it defines who we are. We are unique and we must embrace that. If we do not, we can become people without identity in the near future.

When we left – presents were shared all around , tears were shed all around, and I felt like I had been there for more than the one night we spent at the Marae. We were also honored by their chief who gave a bottle of water taken from their sacred springs from their highest and sacred mountain. I am thankful for having had the experience. It was a spiritual experience for me that I want to share in [sic].

Thank you for reading.

by Tanya Zeriga-Alon

Its all in the Timing: Bench warrants out for DPM & A-G

12 11 2011

It seems only the Deputy Prime Minister Belden Namah and the Attorney General, Dr. Alan Marat are the only ones who have been issued a warrant and not the Prime Minister as earlier stated.

AG Dr. Allan Marat

But then this begs the question as to why that is so when the Prime Minister was fully aware of the move to sack the Chief Justice and had endorsed the NEC decision, as Ben Micah the government Chief of Staff was reported to have said.

This is just one of the many questions and blind spots in this ongoing saga that holds me back from making speculations as yet. But there are a few oddities that baffles me still, the most notable one being timing.

The timing of this move has not been given enough critical thought. PNG is just reeling from a major upheaval in the country’s major port city of Lae. Things may have simmered down but that in no way means the problem has gone away.

There is also the ongoing Commission of Inquiry into the Special Purpose Agricultural Business Lease which has revealed some very controversial and damning findings – the forgery of signatures amongst some of the rots in this issue. (Meanwhile it was sighted in The National that rival newspaper, Post Courier was served Defamation charges but fuck Rumbinan Hijau and its PR Machine! That is fodder for other tales some other time).

Crucial also is the referral of the O’Neil-Namah government by the East Sepik Provincial Government to the Supreme Court on the legality of this government. The court decision was supposed to have been handed down on December 9th but as of yesterday, word is out that decision on the referral will be brought forward.

Let us not forget the nation goes to the polls in only a few months from now.

These are just some of the key issues facing the country that needs immediate and decisive action. And by “decisive”, I mean an immediate and carefully calculated approach in handling and diffusing such crisis situations. A response that is overdue by a couple of days or even 3 is certainly NOT ‘decisive’!

The Opposition in the meantime, has maintained the stance of the spoilt brat from the moment they had been blind sided, not providing an effective opposition. But then again, what more WERE they going to offer anyway? Fuckin dickwobs.

What I am saying is that those MEN(!) we put in there to think, talk and stand up for us are busy playing football and marbles in there that half my tax Kina is spent on tribunals, court cases and commission of fucking inquiries that do shit all anyway. If not any of these then it – my tax money – ends up as another of our many band-aid solutions, some lousy cheque presentations and money waving banquets (tut-tut) or some extravagant ‘fact-finding’ trips to Abu Dhabi even .

Now look what they have made me do? I should be at a book-swap talking books right now and even collecting school books for children in remote Oro and here I am bitch-blogging.



A Kange Country Singing Sensation

10 03 2011

I was at the Botanical Gardens just outside the University of Papua New Guinea attending this barbecue or a party of sorts. There were quite a good number of people there, a fair portion of which were from the Western Highlands Province.

Anyway, here I was standing with these Kange gentlemen sharing a joke when suddenly one of them – who if I can remember correctly was a Jiks Opr – broke into song and boy, he could sing like a Country & Western star alright. He had all his twangs and dips and rises down pat as his lyrics rode on the steel guitar like a pro who just rode in from El Paso with his fiddles aflutter.

Eat your heart out, Digicel Superstar” I was thinking with a smile, all taken by this display of brilliant artistry by a Western Highlander, a Papua New Guinean – my own countryman. Hell yeah!

But when I looked around not even a single one of the people standing around bothered to bat an eyelid, much less pause for an appraisal as he belted out one sick number after another. I couldn’t help but notice this obvious lack of interest.  “Hang on. Didn’t you people just see and hear that? This IS a Country music sensation from PNG in the making!” But I did not want to break the flow so I held my peace and dismissed them from thought.

It was then that my alarm went off and I woke up with a start, just in time to hear Diamond Rio fade into denouement on the radio.

Diamond Rio


Mystique Beauty

15 02 2008

A girl called Allure
An indecent perversion or an appreciation of feminine beauty?

She had no name.

She drifted into view in all her radiant beauty when I was out shopping last Monday. She was clad in gear that would have easily passed for rags on anybody else, but it was haute couture on her.

She removed a pair of aviator shades to reveal bright brown eyes that reminded me of sweat brown sugar at sunset. She perched it on a mass of lustrous black hair that had been pulled back in a bun, giving it an extra sheen as if it was needed at all.

She had that don’t-give-a-damn way about her in the way she carried herself and went about her business. Despite her seemingly nonchalant air, she moved with such grace with those well toned limbs, she was pure majesty. She was slow-motion in real life. She was poetry in motion.

As she turned, you could just make out parts of a painted claw reaching out for her neck from beneath the canvass of a tight-fitting Rip Curl t-shirt. This contrast enhanced a skin of flawless tone and texture. She wore a pair of faded calf-length jeans, the left leg folded up knee-high. More golden brown of silky softness teasingly peered out from behind those jeans through silent tears where the majority of the cotton strands seemed to have surrendered to the abrasive demands of constant laundering.

After paying for her items she casually drifted into the liquor section and picked up a 12-pack Paradise white can, payed for it and made her exit.

Awed by such beauty and intrigued with mysticism, I had to see how the story ended. Whether she got on her horse and rode out into the sunset or just disappeared into a tinted ride and into the arms of her Romeo.

But she was way too good for such cheap tricks. She came out and walked past every – mostly flashy – looking vehicle in the parking lot. Right at the end near the entrance was a beat up Land Cruiser, covered with caked mud and grime with a few 44 gallon fuel drums at the back. The entire setting was neatly complemented with three scruffy looking older gentlemen who were sitting at the back.

As she approached, they clambered down and she handed them a few sticks of Spear cigarettes and a Ten Kina note for their buai. After helping themselves to it, two of them returned to their posts by the fuel drums and the oldest of the lot got into the passenger seat as the ignition kicked in with a turbo-charged growl.

They left soon after, leaving behind a smoke screen of diesel fumes which hung lazily in the air but for a few seconds.

That was the last I ever saw of her. I probably will never see her again. Perhaps she was just a figment of my imagination. She disappeared just the way she appeared.

She still had no name.


A Temporary Respite

26 10 2007

Adieu (1993) by Jean-Pierre Perreault
Adieu (1993) by Jean-Pierre Perreault; Photo: Michael Slobodian; © Michael Slobodian

A few days ago I read a post from a fellow blogger (Mangimosbi) about “A guide to wasting time at work“. I left a comment there about how I was guilty of some of the items in that list. Seems my sins have finally caught up with me.

For I can see the healthy glint of cold steel of the guillotine through the bars of this prison. I can not miss the incessant stares of fellow inmates and their soft whispered conversations about my predicament. Although there is no direct mention of my pending demise, it still lurks beneath the spoken words.

By the time you find this note, the silent echoes of the blade bearing down the chopping block would have long faded. The blood on the executioner’s robe would have long dried black.

For I write this in the 11th hour of my life behind these walls. The fading glow of a dying candle throws long ghostly shadows on the grimy walls. Dancing to the silent beat of the flickering flame as I try to pen my adieu to you all.

Despite the bleak situation, its respite and freedom for me. But still a return I promise you. Like Gandolf from the Grey to the White. 🙂 (Well, maybe not exactly to such an extent).

Here now I sit and ponder.

To be or not to be?
That is DEFINITELY NOT the question.

To go out with a whimper or
To go out with a BANG!

Now that!
THAT is the question.

Peace Y’all.


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