Literary Criticism and Me

Since my birth in 1979 at Arawa, then the provincial capital of North Solomons province of Papua New Guinea, I never had set my foot on West New Britain Province where my late father, John Roka is from. In Bougainville, I went to school. In Bougainville I was when the bloody armed conflict came in 1988 and passed by.

My views are therefore, absolutely Bougainvillean. I entered the PNG Attitude, a webpage promoting PNG writing currently, just this year 2011, and began publishing articles that are often so anti-PNG in nature. For this, I had received a good number of criticisms from a wide variety of persons around the country and the region.

Criticism, anywhere is good for those of us who consider ourselves as learners or beginners. With an open mind we turn to absorb its acidic attacks. For, from them I suggest we are learning the world around us. This makes us more and more focussed on what we turn to bring into society as dreaming and working writers.

Without criticism I know that, I cannot measure my impact in society or, I just could not glean where, I am not doing well. For me, though it is a new experience, I had attained some valuable assets in helping myself as a struggling-to-publish writer.

Madang Technical College Cultural Show Bougainville Photos

Show ground packed with growds

Bougainville students, combined with fellow Bougainville students of Divine Word entering the show ground

Bougainville girls dancing the Kieta peoples' cultural dance, called tore

Jerome, from my home district of Panguna and student leader of Bougainville students of Madang Tech. receives the winning trophy for the bamboo band dance show

Divine Word student, Basil, a Sepik Bougainville die-hard(left), Jerome and Hansol from DWU and a Bougainvillean, displays the trophy

Shock of leaving my friends

Me,in red shirt and basket against tree trunk, and WNB students @ our end of the year picnic.

Together we have being from the early days of 2011 academic year of the Divine Word University here in the Madang Province of Papua New Guinea. In three days time I am leaving for my beloved homeland, my Solomon Island of Bougainville.

Since walking into this university in February of this fast fading 2011, I did enjoyed every bit of our routined study days. I made up new friends, some good and some bad, to the way I see the world and its folly.

Being an anti-Papua New Guinea thinker in political terms, I at the very beginning registered with the Divine Word Bougainville Students Association and as time went by, I discovered that the most of my fellow Bougainvillean lot, lack the art I love the most, that is politics. This does not mean, I want people to directly get involve into politics, but I needed people to behave and interact in a manner that Bougainville is out there to be heard and seen.

I, thus, joined the West New Britain Students Association of this university. This is where my late father comes from. My fellow patrilineal relatives began the most interesting club I seen here. Many friends I'd made and worked and stayed on with. Sociable people were these non-Bougainvilleans. While, in my Bougainville lot, we have a tradition that even you a welknown Bougainvillean is still to be seen as a stranger.

Anywhere, in such a shit I had made up my way to this far end-ending 2011 academic year and ready to go home.

But, going home is now a becoming a problem to my heart. I had friends and a study routine that my heart is struggling to let go for this christmas break. Around me, fellow students from all over Papua New Guinea are packing their belongings ready to depart. Some of us are thinking of trading our few belongings for money or beer in the squatter settlements surrounding this university.

Any means that works out, is the one to take...for we are to be going our seperate ways.

Hearts in tears of losing a friend or study mate, we are going with a dream of coming back in 2012.

Western Literature must not prevail in Papua New Guinea

Melanesians existed on the island of New Guinea for more than 50 000 years and still we, as Papua New Guineans just don't appreciate that fact and give away our developing art to the recent imperialistic cultures.

Art, in the like of myths, folklores and legends (including dramas, dances, paintings...etc) existed in PNG long before the Europeans reached our coastlines. But they ought to be given the respect for bringing to us the new culture (education) of reading and writing that has now given us a way for us to export our art into the world.

Europeans gave us the way to have our art forms known and traded for a little income. But, money, ought not be the basis of PNG art; however, national awareness or selling our identity must be the fundamentals of that old Melanesian art.

The artist, be him a poet, prose writer, novelist, painter or actor, must be developed from within the Melanesian environment and brought out there for the world to see and learn the Melanesian world. It must not be the 'neo-colonialist' that must streamline our art for his own benefit. The Africans did show us the way to go with the 1960s Negritude movements in Europe. They called for all African writers to bring African values or symbols into their art forms. The reasons, as I see it, is to make sure that Africa was 'known' and 'respected'.

Coming back to PNG artists, especially writers, they are always being subjected to 'outside' scrutiny. A western editor must streamline his or her art (PNG) to suit the western readership. It is acceptable since, in PNG we still lack a culture of loving our own art. But, do we really have in our heart, a love of PNG art in its purest form?

A writer's style, in PNG, must be his or hers. This is a art that really reflects who this artist as a person and from which corner of PNG he or she is from from.

A piece of poetry or short story that has no 'western' salting, but blessed by a Papua New Guinean like Russell Soaba, is what I as a Bougainvillean shall, whole heartedly, call it a piece of PNG art.

Literature and Bougainville

Since the Bougainville conflict had come into place in 1988, efforts have been strained to appease or pacify the conflict, but still the killing, tears and division prevails. Governments of Australia, New Zealand, Solomon Islands and the United Nations entered but still we suffer from our own irresponsibility.

Because of this conflict I was age 19 in 1997 at Arawa High School doing Grade 7 and came across an inspiring English teacher, Mr William Mania from the Eastern Highlands Province of Papua New Guinea. He wrote poetry celebrating different parts of Bougainville he travelled to. He at times, came to read his poems to his us; they were very captivating, and ordered us to write more about Bougainville if we really loved our homeland.

I never personally came to love the art itself, but began to write poems without any intention to store them but as a fun thing. Later on after showing it around the class I would squeeze the paper and throw it away because William Mania was too better than me.

But, in the later months of 1997, I wrote a poem titled, Panguna for a class exercise. Mr William Mania took them away for correction. The next morning, to my surprise he called me into his office and told me my poem was the best! And also, he took my permission to write his poem based on my piece and what he created out of mind, was published in the Arawa High School 1997 Magazine. I was very pleased for myself. At least I was somebody, closer to my teacher.

Then Mr Mania left and a Kiwi ornithologist and author, Mr Don Hadden entered my world in 1999 as I was doing Grade 9. He gave me more on the value of writing. His words that I always remember is: ' writing is education to your trouble-torn Bougainville'.

He was right.

My first admiration of my writing was at UPNG in 2003 when I had a poem published in the UNIVERSITY NEWS. Many Bougainvilleans reacted very positively. So, I then came to realise that Mr Don Hadden was not speaking with experience. Through his stay in Bougainville, he saw how difficult it will be for my people to come to reach normalcy.

Bougainville recently only had few writers, namely, Leo Hannet, Matubuna Tahun and Regis Stella. Their contributions to Bougainville is great, but our peoples' accessibility to tasting real Bougainville literature is not so near.

Bougainville has to date, enormous levels of corruption, lawlessness and division. Who will help? PNG is trying and the ABG is trying but the progress is too slow and under the light of 'peace by peaceful means'.

To me, the flavour of nationalism in Bougainville has been dumped. Kept aside, but why did you fight? Why did Bougainvilleans die? It's all because the desire to be free.

As a lover of writing, I believe, Bougainville needs the literary front onboard quickly. That is to build, direct and spread the spirit of nationalism in the hearts and minds of our people. For Bougainville, being a 'true' nation, nationalism should be the driver of unity, respect and understanding so that our beloved island can reach its goals of nationhood as a united one people.

Two Bougainvillean Songs

Koromoni Man

Kupe
Kupe...o Kupe,
Kupe man...mountain man,
the gold miner.
Digger of the Crown Prince Range
of squandering.

When Bougainville cry for money
you heap her cartons of beer.
You snore in midget stash,
but feign a money flower
in the streets of Arawa.
O midge of the land;
the false prophet.

O you wind of squandering;
not wind of change,
but fate of the motherland.

Kavarong River

My hunting na fishing grounds.
Jungle so thick, they say.
Rivers so cold to the bone;
All is bush music
when birds, insects and breeze
came in the party.

My hunting and fishing ground.
The Kakara and ere-reng-kong
got you stark naked from Panguna.
You stand down there a harlot
of my nightmares; in stream
they come like rolling rock spree
of Kaupara nabe,
and make me cry.

My hunting and fishing ground.
When I walk...your gravel
hurts my sole.
When I thirst...you ignore
my burning agony and allow me to perish.
When I stoop to bath,
you scream me:
'Mama, it poisons!'

September Sixteen

O, man blong New Guinea...

Your magnificent paints,
great bilas,
grass skirts,
and da kundu drum
migrate from the fireplace
to singsing happy birthday, kantri bilong yumi.
Naispela kantri bilong yumi;
Sepik man, Tolai man, Simbu man na Papua man.
God blessim na blessim
kantri bilong yu,
kantri bilong mi.

O, man bilong New Guinea...

Yu danis lo independence bilong yu
olsem kokonas wind i wiliwilim stap.
Singsing bilong yu olsem thunder ipairap...
taim meri kekeni i sanap klostu,
na taim emi lus yu silip olsem solwara
isave silip sore.
Moni stap yu danis...
Meri lukluk, yu stailim singsing over lo tumbuna.
Yu paul-paul stap na san go; na
taim em kam bek, yu sot-kat
na bagarapim bilas.

O, man bilong New Guinea...

Mangi Kawas iles pinis lo yu
Yu simel  olsem ass-kras blong bilak-bokis antep lo maunten...
o yu kindem blong wara Sepik save rives forever
lo ai bilong korapsen.
Ba yumi how nau?
September sixteen kam na go
olsem wara Fly
but yu stap kindem iet wantem pekpek lo het.
Ba yumi how nau?
Ba yumi how nau?

36 years of independence, a waste

It was the WW2 and the 1960s I believe the founding fathers of this country, were caught unprepared by the longing for self-determination for PNG. Or otherwise, spoon fed to their conscience by some outsiders.

What good have we attained? In this 36 year old walk, I personally don't see anything worth celebrating for because the very citizens we promised for by the process of nationhood we could protect their rights and development, are still suffering as a handful of few greedy politicians and haves are getting richer and richer every day.

PNG politics, today has gone out of hand. No Papua New Guinean is behind the wheels of this country, but the foreigns organisations, governments and businesses drive us here and there to their best interest. We have had been denied the intrinsic meaning of sovereignty--or lost is the true meaning of nationhood.

Our country is are nation dictated by outside bodies that have no respect to Melanesian values and organisation of society. They benefit and we get nothing in terms of tangible outcome in politics, economic and social games played in our home soil.

So, what now, Papua New Guinean?

Bougainville Has No Place in New Guinea

Looking back through the history of Bougainville since its discovery by Captain Louis De Bougainville in the 19th century to the eruption of the bloody Bougainville in 1988, Bougainvilleans and their island were the soccer fought for control by two opposing sides without peoples' knowledge.

In fact, Bougainville should have been the first nation to gain independence from the colonisers in the 1970s if the Australians were not worried of their 'protection shield' Papua New Guinea. Australia needed very much to create a country that must stand independent to the east of doubtful Indonesia. That is, if PNG was to remain a state of Australia, there was high probability of friction with Indonesia.

The finance to create that country, PNG, was nowhere, but the island of Bougainville. In the 1960s mining at Panguna in Central Bougainville was already under development so when, later, the Bougainvilleans called for independence, shockwaves swept through the Australian political lines that this was too terrible a disaster for their protection strategy.

With that long relegation of Bougainville people to self-determination, the fruit of PNG-Australian ignorance of human rights was the Bougainville Conflict.

During the peak of the crisis in 1990, a Highlander, J. Guis Kola from Moromaule Aidpost in Simbu, wrote for the Niu Gini Nius, 3 January 1990:

''I am a Highlander who likes reading newspapers, news articles and so on. When every time I come across a newspaper, I usually read Bougainville Crisis on the front cover page or the opposite side.

The government is short sighted sending all the very innocent soldiers and mobile squads to the troubled island to be torn into pieces. Why not let the Bougainvilleans stand on their own two feet and withdrew all the innocent soldiers, mobile squads and others from the island?

I would also like to state that what Bougainville has is only a small percentage of what the PNG mainland has. We have all the precious minerals on the mainland.

Why waste time fighting over Bougainville copper when we should concentrate our energies else where?''

This were great ideas for PNG to have considered earlier than the Bougainville Conflict. But what the author, was not aware of is that, without Bougainvillean money all his talks was not to come to fruition within his lifetime. Bougainville was still financing the development works in infrastructure and so on.

And to the Bougainvillean, this was and is a positive challenge to start thinking in the right direction. Becoming responsible people to our island, the government of the day and to our community members and work towards the betterment of our Solomon island of Bougainville.

Love in Poetry

Pasin Blo Tingting

Mi missim yu, mi missim yu
Mi sidaun sore stap
lo maunten bilong Karokata,
na naispla kol win iraunim mi
na mi salim tintin igo lo yu
my Rorovana

Yu silip sore olsem mi
lo nambis daun bilo lo lek bilong mi.
Yu drin wara Pine
na hamamas.
Na olgeta de yu lukluk not
na driman lo meri Buka
yu say em stap lo aiwei rot
na singsing mo.

Na taim san igo daun
baksait lo asples Donsiro
yu karai na mi sore na karai tu.
Mitupla krai wanem taim bai em kam
dispela meri Buka
na aiwei kar i lap
na go.

Pokpok Island

My little sunshine
always sucking my two breasts
o love, and sweet future.

Mother

My mum ain't a myth
but the milk of the day
and the warmth of the night...
Long live mama,
oh Bougainville

Invisible Sting

In the skin there was hope
of a gleaming future.
Fully fledged was my devotion
to the Banoni lass.
Our nooky nights were unrelenting
as the moon said so.
But then,
the sun never came
and gone was the song
with the wind of the December nights
and estranged I was
in pure wonder.

September Poems

The Dew and Me

Morning dew
you so icy cold to my bones
The sun is high and you fade
my sleep so swiftly
o, my wonder water.

The Kawas Gunman

Lewa, o lewa
you snore the night
as I cry my heart at the frontline
to keep you warmth
from the infidel New Guineans.

Lewa, oi baka ani
you nice like the orchids of Korarei
that entice my eyes with calm
of the Kau'para peak
where legend homage
as elopers' paradise.

Lewa, baka domangnani
let your gunman snore by your side
to heaven with you
and never come back
for the sun.

My Bougainville

My Bougainville
listening to your songs I cry
my sweet home island

Free Bougainville

In the coast
I was born
In the mountains
I grew...I grew
like any other Blackman
fighting to survive
in the motherland
where the strangers of New Guinea
are wringing our milk
and killing us
to turn us New Guinean.

Sleepless nights.
Doubtful days
I survived in agony.
In the cold jungle caves
and wild ridges
I travelled in tears and blood
away from the hovering gunships,
brawling gunboats
and rattling machineguns
that kept breathing at my tail
every beautiful morning.
Beautiful morning
for not a Bougainvillean
but the grubby New Guinean
who fell in love
with my mountain abode,
Panguna gold money.

There he is, shameless
corrupt New Guinean. Yu mas longlong pinis...
call me New Guinean
if I am a Redskin...
call me New Guinean
if the Shortland islands
are seven hundred kilometres away from me.
O yu uncivilized
Australian puppet!
Free my Bougainville...
my Bougainville.

September Snapshots

Confuse pikinini, LFRoka

Rooms Douglass and me on a return home. Computing Science and Mathematics Block of DWU (back)

Step-up nating-nating

Wild dog from Panguna

My school, the PNG Studies Department HQ building at Divine Word University

Divine Word Cultural Show Pictures (2)

Bougainville's bamboo band crew raving their folly

Bougainville's wild girls show-casing the Solomon dance as the Redskins stare in pure wonder

Bougainville women shaking to the beat of the bamboo

Simon Pigolo (Escapii Pigolo in Facebook) with a kavaronta (a set of bass bamboo flut)

Bougainville stall with bamboo band crew master, Issac Liri

Bamboo band crew at work

Leonard Fong Roka and company in the Bougainville stall (photo by Dr Jerome K. Semos)

Born to be a Bougainvillean and will die a Bougainvillean.

Divine Word Cultural Show Pictures

Leon Fong Roka workin on Kietas' traditional food tamatama with other Kawas mobs

Roomies, Simon Pigolo (left) and Douglas Deseng proud with the Bougainville flag

Bougainville's singsing kaur (kovi in Kieta) at DWU cultural show

Bougainville students dancing the tore

Leon Fong Roka and Jerome leading with the dangko

Entering the show ground

Getting nasty with the kovi

Bougainville: referendum terms are unrealistic

The terms paving the way for the Bougainville referendum were agreed upon in Kokopo in Papua New Guinea on the 26 January 2001 by the leaders Moi Avei, John Momis, late Joseph Kabui, Joel Banam, UN's Noel Sinclair and PMG representative Stephen Henningham; and to most of us, its conditions are ignorant of the Bougainville problem.

In the agreement, it should be noted that when they said that, ' Bougainvilleans will vote not earlier than 10 years after the formation of the Autonomous Government and the Bougainville Constitution and no later than 15 years'. What is this nonsense?

Sam Kauona came out first to attack this by saying: ' That the conditions should be 'cautiously welcomed' as they were clearly 'unfair'. He further claimed that too much was given to the corrupt and dishonest PNG government. His question was: ' Did not we learn through the years we have been ruled by the Redskins'

The government of PNG knew all these conditions were to be challenged by the Bougainville economic status. Poor economic performance would have the Bougainville people vote against independence which shows PNG's continued attraction to this resource reach Solomon island of Bougainville. The 20 000 people that perished during the conflict were ignored.

Beside, more was said of the BRA to disarm completely. This is another gesture of PNG placing itself over the people of Bougainville. The biggest question is: why should we trust PNG? Unlike the evil Redskins, Bougainvilleans are peace loving people and we know where and when to use the gun.

As Bougainville is now approaching the set dates, all I am thinking of is the amendment of the useless PNG constitution. The section on Bougainville referendum must be amended to suit the situation on Bougainville.

Problems are good if we can learn them for our change

As a youngster of age 9, in 1988, I was jubiliating with pride when my uncle David Perakai and the other militants, especially in 1989, came for a visit and recreation at the Kaino care centre outside Arawa. The whole populace would feed and clothe them. In return they would tell us their tales of hard life in the jungles around the great Panguna mine.

After a week with us they would then return back to Panguna to fight without the a farewell. In the morning, I would ask, 'And uncle David'. All I got from the elders was, 'Your uncle will come soon.'

This were the lost days, when every person in Bougainville was behind the militants. Today, things have just gone wrong. Bougainville is divided.

Our Bougainville, has so many factions that we ought to deal with if we are progress forward. We have so many conflicting Meekamui groups. Koike and his men doing a little bit blood letting in Buin. Uma and his gang politking in Kieta, as Musinku, operating his kingdom in Siwai and many more.

These, all will end. There is nothing that does not have its death. But, as Bougainvilleans, are we learning from all these in preparation of building a better Bougainville?

The Kietas of Central Bougainville have a proverb: mushroom sprouts from the rot. This literally mean that, a good comes from what is considered bad.

Our problems must not just be ignored, but must be used for the betterment of tomorrow. Such chaotic situations will have our people better persons who will reject further problems.

Problems are our tools of change.

A Bougainvillean

by Leonard Fong Roka

In the room...
be a Bougainvillean
In the dorm...
be a Bougainvillean
In the ablution...
be a Bougainvillean
In the mess...
be a Bougainvillean
In the class...
be a Bougainvillean
At study...
be a Bougainvillean
Oh soul brother. On the u'rungkasi lawns
be a Kawas
In the dusty bus cabins...
be a Kawas
In the illness pubs...
be a Kawas
Oh soul brother. In the church of New Guinea lies...
pray a Bougainvillean prayer
In sorrow...
shed a Bougainvillean tear
In joy...
dance a Bougainville kovii
In greeting...
give a Bougainvillean kiss
And in love...
surrender to the Bougainvillean
rising sun
On Bougainville, you were born...
then die in Bougainville
Oh soul brother, we were Bougainvilleans
dying in our Solomons from Western and New Guinea
money lust...
Oh soul brother,
let not your father break in tears
as it was in the genesis
of
agony.
Oh soul brother,
be a true lewa
KAWAS!

The Water Problem in Bougainville

Water is a vital necessity of life. Without water our body cannot last for a day, but today this resources as being ignorantly abused by many people. Population growth and other factors causes harm or pollution to our water systems.

The mainland Bougainville island is, as we know, is so blessed with wild rivers but their daily volume by observation is decreasing because of deforestation from gardening and so on. Forests preserve soil moisture which is the main source of our water cycle. Moisture builds on to trickles; this further turn into streams, then to rivers we see and enjoy the moment we hear the brawling.

There are certain signs that I see today, that shows that a river is not normal. A river that is abnormal, floods so fast with just a little rain. Its flooding water has high content of mud and other materials and are very destructive; but, in easing, these rivers or streams are so quick. On the other hand, a natural river is so slow to flooding because the forest will be absorbing the first few drops of rain; and it takes time for natural rivers to cease the nature of flooding since the forest will again take time to release all its water content to its natural levels.

With this, Bougainville's most river systems are today, are all affected; only are very few are in their natural stages. This few, can only be identified in less populated areas in the west side of the island, especially in Eivo, Torokina and few other areas.

In other areas, where water should have remained chaste, today, alluvial gold mining is affecting water systems. In most areas of Central Bougainville, especially, the village of Kupe the sources of water in the mountainous Crown Prince Range has been polluted with chemicals and mud from the continuous operations of the gold panning and settlement. And the main village have piped in water from safer distances. This is also a grave danger to the town populace of Arawa that heavily depends on the Bovong river that comes from the Kupe area.

To the rest of Bougainville, the Buka islanders in the north are, as I had been witnessing, very good users of water. This is because their part of Bougainville lacks water depending on the type geographical make-up. To them, a bucket of tank water some how can do the whole family kitchen cleaning.

Bougainvilleans have now a challenge to manage and preserve water for the generations to come. With concerns over the resettlement of our Cateret islanders, and other problems, water management is one grave worry I have that's worth addressing by the leadership in government to the irresponsble village people and their leaders.

The Tumpusiong Story

Den'ona

by Leonard Fong Roka

Den'ona, Den'ona
why bothering me, the lass
you say so uneducated
of the Tumpusiong west...you reject for loving.
You say.
But as the sun wokes, o'er Deumori
swaggering was my swain
o'er the Darenai hillocks
that assemble like brave warriors
of the gone past.
Yet so cool; no fooling as a village
dog that come back for chased love
for I not like those sick folklores
of Mako'osi.
So you no moon and stars
I dream of,
Den'ona. Den'ona.

Poem to the Mungkasi

A Flower on my desk

By Leonard Fong Roka

Since that February
The flower was there...next to me
In form, it was there
It was there, all tru seasons...it was there
Silent and chaste.

Perfect and violet, it stood
Calm and charming it withered by noon
To kill my lamp in the bloom of morning
As she paraded in gaits so angelic
To a lost Kawas kindred.

I dream of those tangles
Where we could hide across Bougainville
In the rugged and virginity
Of Panguna
And not those mosquito plains for the Solomons
But, I lament that it knew
That I was lost
Before her spells.

My soul is in Bougainville

I came to this strange in February this year (2011) but now am getting so sick. The place, so called 'Beautiful Madang' to tell you the truth has no freedom of expression, travel and any other fundamentals I enjoy back in my beloved country Bougainville.

All I want now is, this August must go then come September and quickly pass because I am not interested in you...I want October, that's when I am flying out of hell to freedom in my homeland Bougainville.

Bougainville, leaving you is a heartbreak, just like a sudden divorce.

August Poems

Tears

by Leonard Fong Roka

Tears
warm salty
flowing falling piling
sadness, bringing me
tears.

Overnight

by Leonard Fong Roka

Soothing song of snore
Down my spine and across my heart
You keep me long

Bali Island Way

by Leonard Fong Roka

Dingy na dingy
Oh we?
To my island paradise...

Cutting clear-bluey-soupy water
Please take me there
Across the sea where my eyes cannot see

Plonk! and a plonk...sucked!
My heart in the azure sky
Ram! and a ram...soaring!
My heart, back lo dingy
Feigning a wisdomed seaman

But, where is my island paradise?
Mi paul!

A plonk and a ram...
We go on and on and on
On a journey of no return

A plonk! and plonk!
A ram and ram we go...gliding
The rolling, rippling and ranting Bismarck Sea
To my island paradise

As she stood in desolation
But sweet...
Sore, Bali ailan.

My Photos

Bougainville Crisis Photographs

Poem for you

I love you

by Leonard Fong Roka

Looking at all you children
I cry and cry for you
History shall tell you, I cried
I cried as your land was not yours;
But for the strange redskins
Who rave their evil in the night
Who killed and raped your mothers and fathers
Of the high names
For petty crimes...and they corruption?
I was sick for you
As they suck my blood
And left me barren
So you could die
I cry for you
The fruits of my reason
O mungkasi.

Bougainville must be protected

Corruption in PNG is too systemic and systematic. The law enforcement mechanism bodies, instead of carrying out their duties turn to be the very one causing inharmony in society. Crime is a every day affair and ranges from petty to worst, like rape and often goes without media's attention.

Bougainville, the place known for the conflict and guns, on the other hand is the most safest place as long as you respect the native. I, as a Bougainvillean in Madang, am living in constant few.

False prophets

Many Bougainvilleans today keep denying the thousands of innocent people who died under the hell of the PNG blockade on our beloved island by continuing to cause harm to the society.

Bougainville, the era of arms has gone by, now it is the era of intellectual minds to deal with the infidel PNG to get ourselves out of the hell of Redskinism and its corruption of society.

Keep trading your guns to PNG because they are coming every day looking for it so they'll dive into the drains and we move on.

Bougainville Irredentism

Bougainvilleans are Solomonese and not New Guineans as many dirty Redskins call them. False indoctrination by PNG that my people are New Guineans has driven my island into its chaotic existence today.

Thus, our aim is freedom for my people and island that Australian colonialist offered us to PNG as an independent gift solely to finance the development of this Redskin society.