Over the months of August and September, I roamed a barren land of non-writing, and perhaps non-thinking; clambered steep mountains, and strolled deep dark valleys often, alone through thick pools of quirky ignorance.
In abject cold and darkness, a whistle from softest of beaks harassed the ears, while scent of a rose sets off fire alarms in the olfactory mill. Even dance of evening sun, ends with me been shown the middle finger. And when a dawn appears promising, throughout the day I seem to try to catch up with something I missed in the morn.
Not a day ends in which I’ve given briefest of consideration to poetry and writing, let alone reading – not even my favourite blog PNG Attitude mattered. Such were my days between August and September. I however found something – a new perspective and a realisation of sorts.
This new perspective, result of culmination of years of blind ignorance, urged on by an unsound and unstable ideology sets me on a new path. It feels like I would be living my whole life all over again, this time from a vantage position. And I am really grateful life has given me another chance, so to speak. Perhaps I have found hope, but I am yet uncertain of its true nature.
During this time however, I roamed the filthy streets of Port Moresby – dark alleyways where corruption in any form plays out under flood lights; backyard waterholes where bartenders sell their own booze as well as their employees’; pimps oasis where pensioners flourish without care; and a card gambling haven where entirely families live on scones and Tang juice.
Learned one or two new tricks though, and I witnessed something common in all the people I’ve met: they have a spirit of joy. They all enjoyed what they do and I saw it in their eyes. This spirit of joy was dancing many dances and couldn’t care less if it missed the world. And there was peace and contentment, a kind I can’t comprehend. Only they knew. And that spirit of joy manifested in the ways they carry themselves: confident, content and certain of their respective tomorrows.
I have also discovered another face of corruption. It is a simple face with no designer glasses, nor scents of aftershave or oil. It is unshaven, adorned with rows of buai stained teeth and heavy black lips, and wears a gullible odour that reminds me of my grandfather’s smoke-filled round house.
Whatever conclusion one arrives at from these descriptions, corruption has reached the simple man and they too have become partakers in ways that blew my mind. Whether we let corruption flourish whilst we find our way to progress through its thick undergrowth, or kill corruption first then find our way to progress, I guess it is up to individuals and families as the government cannot be trusted.
For me, I’ve realised that life is but short. And I am not keen on wasting any more time suffering from complaining and talking about things I can’t do much to change. I will continue to do the things I love most though- write and read but with more passion and about life and its mysteries. May this be my new perspective, new inspiration, and hope it brings me joy and happiness.
Febi's poetry 
New perspective and a new lease of life
October 7, 2013 4 Comments
Over the months of August and September, I roamed a barren land of non-writing, and perhaps non-thinking; clambered steep mountains, and strolled deep dark valleys often, alone through thick pools of quirky ignorance.
In abject cold and darkness, a whistle from softest of beaks harassed the ears, while scent of a rose sets off fire alarms in the olfactory mill. Even dance of evening sun, ends with me been shown the middle finger. And when a dawn appears promising, throughout the day I seem to try to catch up with something I missed in the morn.
Not a day ends in which I’ve given briefest of consideration to poetry and writing, let alone reading – not even my favourite blog PNG Attitude mattered. Such were my days between August and September. I however found something – a new perspective and a realisation of sorts.
This new perspective, result of culmination of years of blind ignorance, urged on by an unsound and unstable ideology sets me on a new path. It feels like I would be living my whole life all over again, this time from a vantage position. And I am really grateful life has given me another chance, so to speak. Perhaps I have found hope, but I am yet uncertain of its true nature.
During this time however, I roamed the filthy streets of Port Moresby – dark alleyways where corruption in any form plays out under flood lights; backyard waterholes where bartenders sell their own booze as well as their employees’; pimps oasis where pensioners flourish without care; and a card gambling haven where entirely families live on scones and Tang juice.
Learned one or two new tricks though, and I witnessed something common in all the people I’ve met: they have a spirit of joy. They all enjoyed what they do and I saw it in their eyes. This spirit of joy was dancing many dances and couldn’t care less if it missed the world. And there was peace and contentment, a kind I can’t comprehend. Only they knew. And that spirit of joy manifested in the ways they carry themselves: confident, content and certain of their respective tomorrows.
I have also discovered another face of corruption. It is a simple face with no designer glasses, nor scents of aftershave or oil. It is unshaven, adorned with rows of buai stained teeth and heavy black lips, and wears a gullible odour that reminds me of my grandfather’s smoke-filled round house.
Whatever conclusion one arrives at from these descriptions, corruption has reached the simple man and they too have become partakers in ways that blew my mind. Whether we let corruption flourish whilst we find our way to progress through its thick undergrowth, or kill corruption first then find our way to progress, I guess it is up to individuals and families as the government cannot be trusted.
For me, I’ve realised that life is but short. And I am not keen on wasting any more time suffering from complaining and talking about things I can’t do much to change. I will continue to do the things I love most though- write and read but with more passion and about life and its mysteries. May this be my new perspective, new inspiration, and hope it brings me joy and happiness.
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Filed under Comment Tagged with Hope, Lies, Night Life in PNG, Perspective, PNG Corruption, Prostitution