Wednesday, June 9, 2021

The Roar of Memories on Poreporena Freeway

As a first timer in POM, I didn't know a lot of places. I had no where else to go. It was around early Feb.in 2014. I got registered at school (UPNG) already, but before classes began I stayed at my Aunt’s place for a few more days. 

 I was so anxious that I would see the big buildings, nice cars, the famous Ela Beach and the sea and of course the whole city. I have heard a lot of nice stuffs about POM that got me restless even the night before I traveled.  Sadly however, my aunt and my uncle were both working. 

 We would go out in the afternoon a few times, but only for better reasons; like to buy groceries. They were both elderly and respectable and would focus more on better things than to go out for fun and see places. Since I was new, I locked myself up; water plants, watched a lot of TV programs, eat and sleep and stayed home.  

 In the middle of one of this big-yawn days, I had a call coming in on my phone. It was from a new number. I never had a lot of people’s contacts or neither did many have mine. I didn’t expect a lot of calls those days. Out of curiosity I quickly tapped on the answer key to know who it was. 

 As I placed the phone closed to my right ear, the first word came through was “Kami (brother).” It was clearly from a guy, but the voice was quite unrecognizable. I couldn't quickly tell who it was. I asked if it was someone I knew, or was a relative? 

 He (the person called) didn’t give me a positive response yet, not as quickly as I wanted to hear. He tried to bring me back to a point where he got my contact digits. He asked if I remembered us being together in my place in 2013 Christmas? And finally he went on and asked “Kami, Namb Willie Kaimining Andak Hul Kandep Kareyaban Dok Masyilyip Daah?”

 This made me remember everything at once and of course knew who was on the phone too. I deeply apologized for not picking up his voice quickly. I felt so down. Realizing it was actually him making the effort to call made me so humble. 

 Frankly, I couldn’t really believe that he called. He's not the kind of person you would want for him to call while you wait. He was a man of respectable traits. He said he was calling to find out if I was free so he could take me out to go around and see places. Following captures a few pieces of our conversation that day that lingers fresh as if it went down just yesterday; number of years gone never erase a good memory.

    Him: Kami, you free or doing something?
    Me: Kami, mi slip kirap lo house tasol ya.
    Him: Aiyooo, Kaimi Nabaen Yarae eret. Wanpla kisim you raun lo city finish too or nogat?
    Me: Kaimi nogat ya. Bel sigirap stret lo go tasol hard ya. Mi no save lo ples too na stap tasol lo house .   
    Him: Now yet you stap lo where? 
    Me: Me stap lo wanpla ples ol kolim Korobosea, but mi no klia tumas how lo givim details. Em mas 
            sampla ap beksait lo bikpla hausik ating. 
   Him: Okay my brother, now worries. I know where that is. Come out to somewhere I can see you.

 ....anyway, to cut it all short he came in a gray car (Toyota Camry) and picked me up. Now I know it was 2mile road that we went down through Koki and Badili to downtown. He showed me where Koki Market was, the famous Ela Beach and downtown and its pretty tall buildings. We kept moving and drove passed Konedobu to Hola through poreporena freeway. 

 As we took on the free way, the car picked up on its speed so strangely. There were no gear shifts. I wondered how that was possible. To a village guy who just moved in to Port Moresby, this was thoroughly an unusual thing happened. I used to think every car, big or small, has the same transmission sets (first to fifth). 

I sat nearside him and looked at his lags, his harms and his face back and forth and again.  He barely touched the gear. His both hands were on the steering wheel and eyes focused on the road. The roaring engine on the mountain affirmed that one of his legs was on the accelerator crushing it. But I was still confused how! I was on board a few times when my aunt was driving, but clearly I never noticed this one.

"Kami, how is that possible; you're kind of putting me through a lot of questions" I asked. I further asked if he could tell me why the car just gassed-up without having the gears shifted.  He just laughed and laughed again. He finally looked at me and said "Kaim, Welcome to Port Moresby."

Late Captain Sanol Kyakagen was a great young man of super leadership qualities. He had a lot of friends; some of whom were of very low standards, but he never cared. He would treat everyone in a way where those around him feels equally accepted. In his stunning charm, you would share your thoughts, crack jokes and laugh out loud freely. He was surely on his way up to flying above the horizons. So sadly however; he went to his eternal sleep - the most painful thing ever happened that left everyone whom he loved & treasured in so much pain and heartbroken.

Death is indeed a painful intruder. It only leaves us brokenhearted in great agony. A lot of people say time heals and yes it does. But what it doesn't are the  memories created; they linger forever. Late Captain S. Kyakagen had a lot of memories with his family members and and friends on which as they ponder they shed tears.  

To me, I can't easily forget that fine day when he lit up the whole world.  I can't forget the expression when he said "Kaim, Welcome to Port Moresby." He was the first guy who showed me that automatic transmission cars exist. And of course he was the first to show me many parts of Port Moresby too.

Every time I see an automatic transmission car or when someone talks about it, or when I travel down or up the poreporena freeway that endless simper on his face gets played in my mind over and over again. Our best moment was about 7 years ago, but it still lingers fresh and it ever will like it happened only yesterday. Not only this in me, but I hope you have left thousands of memories in the hearts of many. 

KAMI NABAEN AMEH, REST EASY IN ETERNAL PEACE  😭 😭💔💔


Wednesday, May 12, 2021

The Fragility of Heights


Life is a cycle of highs and lows. Nothing lasts forever. Do not let success or wealth make you arrogant. Stay humble and treat others with kindness. True happiness comes from contentment and gratitude, not from things that fade away.

Sunday, April 18, 2021

When They Don’t Understand You, Show Them!

When you ask them to understand, they don’t. When you ask them to feel your pain, they can’t. When you share your struggles, they weigh theirs heavier than yours. Words don’t always reach them. The impact is shallow. But put them in your shoes—let them walk your path, even for a moment. Let them feel what you feel. Let them see what you see. Only then will their eyes open. Only then will they truly understand.


I had told him several times that I didn’t have an extra pair. He didn’t seem to care. I even explained that my old shoes were almost two years old and falling apart. Still, he insisted. This time, I didn’t bother replying. What else was there to say? I decided I’d deal with it when I got home.

When I arrived, I sat down on a wooden bench, pulled off my shoes, and slid them over to him. “There you go, bro. Your shoes.”

He picked them up, turning them over and over in his hands. He inspected the front, the back, the inside, and the soles. His silence said it all. Those shoes were beaten up. Wrinkled leather, flimsy support, and the kind of wear and tear that screamed, Please retire me.

His face changed. Frustration mixed with disappointment. It was hard to miss. Everyone in the house could see it. He had expected something else. He thought I’d bring him a new pair from Port Moresby. In his mind, city life meant flashy cars, shiny shoes, and an easy, dreamlike existence. What he didn’t know was how hard we hustle every day just to keep our heads above water.

The next morning, I asked my mom for her slippers. I had nothing to wear. My shoes were still sitting in the house, but I couldn’t bring myself to put them back on. I thought maybe my brother had forgotten them. I figured he’d come back for them at some point.

He didn’t.

He came around the house a few times after that, but the shoes stayed untouched. Eventually, I put them back on and returned to Port Moresby with them.

Here’s the truth. 
Graduating with a degree doesn’t mean a good job is waiting for you. Getting a job doesn’t mean you’re earning enough to live comfortably. People back home don’t understand that. They’ll ask for things you can’t afford to give. They’ll expect more than you can offer.

Explaining doesn’t help. I’ve tried. Sometimes, the best way to teach them is to let them see for themselves.

REMEMBER THIS:

  • You’re not broke just because someone says you are.
  • You’re not a bad person just because you don’t meet others’ expectations.
  • It’s okay to make decisions that upset people, even the ones you care about.

Sometimes, the right thing to do isn’t the easy thing. But it’s still the right thing.



Wednesday, February 10, 2021

GOD ANSWERED, When Death Called

On Thursday, the 4th of February 2021, I woke up to the sterile walls of the Emergency Ward at Port Moresby General Hospital. It was a week before my birthday. But that same day could’ve been my deathday. Exactly seven days apart. Coincidence? Maybe. Miracle? Definitely.

The memories from that time still creep into my thoughts. It’s chilling to imagine how close I came to the other side. Death isn’t some mysterious idea anymore. It’s real. Too real. It’s that dark, cold, and unwelcoming place no one wants to visit. I think of the mortuary at Port Moresby General. The corpses lying there in lifeless silence. The frosty air. The stench of finality. Would anyone dare to “try it out”? Of course not. But one day, we all end up there. For me, that day wasn’t it.

That night; Thursday, around 8:00 p.m.; I felt my body shutting down. It started with a numbness that spread like wildfire. My arms, my legs, everything froze. My jaws clenched so tightly I thought they’d snap. My tongue started pulling back into my windpipe, and I couldn’t stop it. I could feel death closing in. It was no longer just a word. It was a presence, hovering so close I could feel it in my bones.

But God; the God of all-knowing, the Lord of all possibilities; He stood in death’s way. He said, “Not today.”

Seven days later, on my birthday, I sat at my desk scrolling through LinkedIn. Notifications flooded my screen. Over forty people had sent me birthday wishes. Happy Birthday, they said. Each message hit differently. All I could think was, If I’d died last week, today wouldn’t be a celebration. It’d be a funeral.

I couldn’t shake the thought. What if I had gone? What would my friends say? My family? My connections? Being young, fresh out of university, and yet to live the life I’d dreamed of, it seemed unfair. But life isn’t fair, and death doesn’t discriminate. Good health, plans, ambitions; it doesn’t matter. Death comes to us all, whether we’re ready or not.

In those moments, as death loomed, everything I once valued seemed meaningless. The things I worked so hard for, the dreams I held onto; none of it mattered. It was humbling. It was terrifying. And it was a wake-up call.

Today, I’m thankful. Thankful that I didn’t die. Thankful for the lesson I learned in the most painful way. Having a near-death experience changed me. It gave me a new perspective. A new hope. A renewed strength to live differently.

God didn’t want me to be the same person turning another year older. He wanted me to be someone changed, someone who’d seen a glimpse of death and learned to lean on Him completely. Yes, aging means we’re one year closer to the end. But it also means one more year to live with purpose.

I’m grateful to celebrate another birthday. But what I’m most grateful for is this: TO STILL HAVE THE LORD OF HOSTS AS MY GOD! 

Monday, November 2, 2020

SCARS WITHIN ARE ROADMAPS TO OUR SUNSHINE!

FAILURE COMES ONLY TO THE PEOPLE WHO BELIEVE WHEN OTHERS SAY 'YOU WILL FAIL.'

Where flowers bloom, so does hope. They radiate smiles, spreading joy with their fragrance. Even a single rose can attract a thousand bees, tirelessly weaving the delicate harmony of nature. And yet, sometimes, the hands that hold these roses are trapped within walls, shielded by impenetrable stockades. For the conceited heart that owns the garden, beauty becomes a private pride, a treasure locked away. The world whispers, “This beauty is your own creation.”

I watched the mighty birds soar across open skies. Their offspring; like roses blooming in concrete gardens; were both radiant and lonely. Laughter was the music of their souls, a fleeting melody in a silent room. In my teenage years, I was like an orphan dwelling in chaos. Hopes felt like fragile seeds buried in barren soil. Surrounded by faceless crowds, I wandered a sea of despair. Finding solid ground seemed impossible, and the warmth of sunshine felt as distant as a thousand days' journey.

Going to school was a monotonous march, like flogging a dead horse. I crawled through life like a snail, weighed down by the burden of inadequacy. I envied the light that others carried, the glow that seemed so unreachable. Once, I lived in a world that felt orderly and bright, where I watched people flourish in their backyards. But everything changed when the light of my moon dimmed. The brokenness of my past and the veils of my uncertain future filled me with dread. Though I appreciated a select few, most people offered no hand to guide me through the darkness. My life felt like a bird with broken wings, unable to soar.

Struggling against the relentless waves of life was never easy. The harsh words of my own relatives cut like daggers, leaving wounds that lingered long after. The world around me; perched on hilltops of judgment; looked down coldly. My heart swelled with oceans of tears, carrying the weight of their disbelief. Neighbors saw no future in me, convinced my climb would lead to nothing. They pointed to the past, to failures they had witnessed, dismissing any attempt to rise as futile.

But now, I look back with gratitude. The scars etched in my heart have become the roadmaps to my soul, guiding me toward light and understanding. I once believed life was a race, but it’s not. Life is a battle; not one where we defeat others, but one where we triumph over the perceptions that tether us. It is a fight to redefine who we are, to claim the beauty and strength that are uniquely ours.

LIVE YOUR LIFE! Do not race against others; the world you build is your own creation. Life rewards us not with what we want but with what we truly deserve. Embrace your scars, for they lead you to your sunshine.

Tuesday, October 27, 2020

I Never Knew Who I Resembled Until I Met a Strange Woman!


Photograph of myself - 2020

One of the oldest questions I’ve ever wrestled with is this: “Whose image do I carry?”

I grew up with just one parent; my mom. Life with her was full of ups and downs. It wasn’t easy. A lot happened and there are countless stories I could tell someday.

I do remember snippets of my childhood, though. Moments that feel like fragments of a dream. I remember sitting on my dad’s lap, spinning the steering wheel of his blue Mitsubishi L200. I remember the excitement of the gifts he’d bring home from Port Moresby and other big places. I recall how he brought electricity into our home, lighting up wooden houses with the hum of a generator. Our plates were always full, meals overflowing with variety.

Back then, I called someone “Papa.” That word carried so much warmth. But it didn’t last. When I was just two or three years old, my dad left. Not for a short trip or a work assignment. He he left for good. I remember watching him walk away. And just like that, “Papa” was gone from my vocabulary.

Mom told us he wasn’t coming back. We slowly accepted it. I never understood why, but we were even prohibited to call Papa's name. The few memories I had of him faded over time. I couldn’t even picture his face anymore. We had photo albums, sure, but I never had a photo of him to keep. That part of my life felt like it had been erased.

Still, as the years passed, one question remained in my heart: “Do I look like my dad?” Nobody ever told me, not even my mom. That is, until a stranger gave me an answer that changed everything.

A Stranger With Answers:

It was January 7th, 2017; a day I’ll never forget. The morning sun broke through the cold misty mountains, with golden rays sneaking through roughly woven blind. We were in Kakaliaka Junction for an awareness that UPNG KSA Students carried out. As the chairperson, I was leading the event, starting off with the necessary intros.

The crowd was massive. Their murmurs echoing with curiosity and anticipation. As I stood to speak, I noticed an elderly woman in the audience who wouldn’t take her eyes off me. She smiled warmly and whispered to the woman beside her regularly.

As soon as the awareness ended, the woman approached me with a solid face. She wrapped her arms around me, and said, “So, you really are my son.”

I was stunned. My mind raced with questions. Who was this woman? Why was she calling me her son?

Sensing my confusion, she explained, “Do you know whose son you are? Do you know where you’re from?” She continued, “I’m Kaipae’s wife. Did your mother ever tell you about Kaipae?”

The name struck a chord. My mom had mentioned Kaipae before; a close friend, relative, and business partner of my dad. He was a prominent businessman in our district back in the 1980s. Though I had never met him or his family, I had heard of his name enough to feel a little connection.

The woman told me something that left me speechless: “Your forehead, your nose, your ears, your smile, even the way you speak; it’s all your father. That’s how I recognized you immediately.”

In that moment, I realized I carried my father’s image. My heart swelled with emotions I barely put into words. That stranger; Kaipae’s wife; had given me a gift I didn’t even know I needed.

Know This:

Whether your father is with you now, has left, or was never part of your life, one truth remains: You carry his image.

You are not a mistake. You are not a mystery. You are the reflection of your father’s legacy. So, stand tall and proclaim it with confidence: “I WAS, I AM, AND I WILL ALWAYS BE MY FATHER’S CHILD.”

Sunday, August 30, 2020

He Said He Wanted to Do What He Does on a Bigger Scale

From July to August 2017, the political scene was a mess. It was a time of great tension, with illegal signing of writs, double declarations, and even MPs being forced to switch sides. The country was waiting to see who would become the next Prime Minister. It was chaos.

At the Wabag to Maramuni Road construction site, Hon. Dr. Tom Lino stood firm. The previous government had failed in so many ways, and people were desperate for a change. But most MPs were blind to the people’s needs, using them only to win votes. The real question was: who would lead the country?

Hon. Dr. Tom Lino at the newly constructed Wabag to Maramuni Road site. 

Meanwhile, opposition MPs in Kokopo had gathered 46 members, hoping to challenge the government. But some MPs quickly switched sides, joining the ruling coalition. Why? Money. The hunger for power was stronger than the needs of their people. It was a sad truth.

Three years earlier, a group of five MPs made a bold decision to join the Pangu Party in hopes of forming a new government. Dr. Jeremiah Tom Lino was among them. He was the youngest and least experienced, having been a doctor, not a politician. He had given up a promising career to step into a world full of power struggles and dirty politics. It wasn’t an easy choice for him or his family.

As a doctor, Dr. Lino was needed in the hospital, not in the mess of politics. But he chose to sacrifice his career for his people. It was a big decision. One that must’ve been hard on him and his family.

Dr. Lino, from the Lanekep tribe in Wabag District, was a first-time candidate. He didn’t know much about politics, but he was determined to make a difference. On July 27, 2017, he was declared the winner of the Wabag electorate, securing 22,463 votes as an independent candidate. He defeated Robert Sandan Ganim, a member of the PNC party. His victory was just the beginning.

Behind the scenes of government formation, things were far from simple. MPs were offered ministries, cash, and promises of big projects. They didn’t have to chase power—it came to them. But Dr. Lino stayed true to his values, not giving in to the temptations around him.

His people were excited about his victory, but they weren’t sure which side he’d choose. Some thought he’d join the big parties. Others hoped he’d join forces with other Engan politicians. But Dr. Lino surprised everyone. He joined the opposition. His decision left many wondering: why?

During this time, Dr. Lino faced personal loss. He lost a brother. Despite his grief, he returned to Port Moresby for the funeral. There, he met with supporters and shared his sorrow. It was in that moment I saw a man with a deep history—a man who would make a difference.

Dr. Lino’s words were powerful. He understood his people’s frustrations. He said, “I know what my people want. But I can’t chase money. I want to remain a free man.” These words showed his strength. In a world of corruption, where money often ruled, Dr. Lino chose to stay true to his principles. 

The day after, on August 24, 2017, Dr. Lino told Loop PNG that he had joined Pangu. He wanted to work with leaders who believed in change, transparency, and integrity. He promised to show that opposition MPs could still deliver. His words were a breath of fresh air—offering hope for the future.    

Dr. Lino’s journey as a doctor wasn’t easy. For seven years, he served as the head surgeon in his province, saving lives. His work was fulfilling, but he knew his impact was limited. He wanted to do more. That’s why he ran for office—to serve the people of Wabag on a larger scale.

Now, three years later, has Dr. Lino delivered on his promises? I don’t have all the answers, but I do know this: his actions speak louder than words. He’s shown his commitment to his people.

Hon. Dr. Tom Lino with two water boys for the construction
workers.

Wabag District is different from other districts in Enga. It’s home to Wabag Town, the provincial capital, and has some key government services. But one place has been left behind for years—Maramuni.

Maramuni is a remote area, surrounded by thick forest. The people there live in poor conditions, with no road access. It takes them two or three days to walk to Wabag Town. There’s a small airstrip, but it doesn’t help much. The people of Maramuni suffer, lacking basic services like healthcare.

For years, no one paid attention to their plight. Previous MPs and provincial leaders ignored them. Only missionaries visited, flying in and out in small planes. But Dr. Lino changed that. He made it his mission to build a road that would connect Maramuni to Wabag. A road that would bring healthcare, education, and economic opportunities to the people.

A Maramuni Lady with Hon. Dr. Tom Lino at the road construction site.
The picture shows how people of Maramuni Travel the long walk.


Dr. Lino’s vision was clear: he wanted to bring more than just medical care to Maramuni. He wanted to change the lives of the people there. The Lino Highway, as it’s now called, is proof of his commitment. It will connect Maramuni to Wabag, opening up opportunities for generations to come.

Dr. Tom Lino’s story is one of courage and sacrifice. His work will be remembered long after he’s gone. The Lino Highway will stand as a testament to his legacy, a symbol of hope for the people of Maramuni and Enga. And as people travel down that road, they’ll remember the man who made it all happen.

May the people of Maramuni, Enga, and Papua New Guinea always honor Dr. Lino’s legacy. His dedication to his people will inspire future leaders to put their people first, not their own greed. The Lino Highway will always remind us of what can be achieved when a leader chooses integrity over personal gain.


How Did I Know About Independence?

I published this piece on the 16th of September 2019, on Facebook  to commemorate the very special  day on which Papua New Guinea Got Indepe...