Royal Ape's Musings

A post by a Mr. Tony Koyangko for good hearted people to donate a book for the 2,500 students at West Goroka Primary School broke my heart! There are so many schools in PNG with a similar plea. I visit the Moale Dabua secondhand clothing shop occasionally to buy good reading books. And so, I have a carton full of books, mainly fiction, collecting dusting at the corner of my room. I’ll be sending some of the books with complimentary copies of my own novel ‘Tam’gega – Fatherless Child’ next week via DHL. Lately, I’ve been writing some children’s stories for ‘Library for All’. As a writer, I’d like to use my skills to help improve literacy in Papua New Guinea. I’d like to write culturally relevant stories and publish them as books for our primary school students. But, I’ll need financial support to order thousands of the books to distribute to schools in the rural areas. Just a few thousands of kina to order and airfreight the books will do. If only our politicians had a hear...

A Caucasian once said: “If you want to hide something from a black person, put it in a book.” (or “write it down”). There’s long been a stereotype that black people don’t like to read. The thinking behind this is that we, black (including chocolate brown and light brown) folks prefer to rely on oral communication to document history and to communicate, in general. We supposedly don’t like to write and we don’t like to read. What this   means in both symbolic and practical terms is that, something precious in terms of content or physical object might be hidden in a book, but because the average black literate person doesn’t like reading anything beside his school materials for examination purpose, that useful material will elude him. In the past, before formal education came to the erstwhile Australian colony, when our ancestors had no knowledge about books, pens or papers, much less read a book, such a dictum was not a surprise. We now live in the information age. ...

Again, we are a nation facing the prospects of a parliament on a knife’s edge, a euphemism for uncertainty and difficult times. It’s not like we haven’t experienced this before. We know enough to realize tumultuous times lay ahead. I am no political commentator, not even an expert. This isn’t yet another commentary pretending to make sense of prevailing political winds. Instead, I wanted to zoom in on something more paradoxical that even our continued, albeit weary, belief in the fairness of our democratic system – voting. After all, it’s one’s civic duty. In this year’s election, no woman was elected into parliament although so many capable women contested. The three women in the last parliament were voted out. The people have spoken, I guess.   If Dame Josephine Abaijah, Dame Carol Kidu and other women can contest against men in an election and win, why are we crying foul over an all-male parliament and pushing for reserved seats? Instead of crying over spilt m...

My dear moonshine Kiss me faithfully Within your graceful light. My dear universe Cradle me in your bosom Of a million gentle stars. My dear sunshine Save me from darkness With your beckoning warmth. My dear lady Captivate my heart And mesmerize my soul.

(Published in Crocodile Prize Anthology - 2016) Cold morning dew From the misty Daulo pass Kissed her strong feet The raggiana s’ sang their songs Of love when she was near. Sun rises to brighten her day Orchids bowed their heads Spellbound by her beauty Her ancestors’ spirits smile lost in a moment of tranquility As she silently walks by.   She leaves a wake of calmness That puts fierce warriors at ease She wears the feathers Of the bird of paradise As a crown. Ambai Daughter of nature Her spirit is so free I’ve never seen such beauty But she never noticed me.