| Sports |
Life’s a beach down
Hula way
JACK METTA and his
friends go country-side and end up on a
somewhat famed beach in Central province
IF Papua New Guineans were not so
naïve, ‘hula’ would automatically conjure up an alluring flavour
of something or someplace exotic and uniquely South Pacific.
Tourists the world over allude the word to the exotic South
Pacific dance – that magical traditional hip-shaking gyration
often performed by pretty island girls in grass skirts in a number
of South Pacific island countries including Tahiti, Cook Islands
and the American state of Hawaii.
Our brothers and sisters along the Papuan coast, particularly the
Central province could also be listed in the same category though,
after all these years, you could almost swear they’ve adopted it
on an “acting basis”, just like most of the Pacific islands songs
that had emanated from their vocal chords over the years.
For them anyway, hula is a place name and not a dance of sorts.
You only have to visit Koki market and if you care to make an
assessment of who is selling the best eating fish, you’d deduce
where the origins of the fish sellers are. How they roll the ‘Rs’
in their communication might also help.
A few of us know better. It had something to do with growing up
next door to the Veles – Anderson, Wari, Shelley and Mape – to
name a few.
Since the day you started comprehending things, you had asked what
language dad was communicating in with his neighbours and his
response was immediate – Hula.
You know how things were; everybody who picked up a word or two of
another language always tried to impress and dad had a knack for
that; always boasting about his adventures up and down the Papua
coast in the early coastal vessels and by foot; picking up the
essential words to communicate with locals in the process.
In those formative years, Hula was just a name of a place that the
neighbours originated from and no thought was ever given to
visiting the place … ever.
So the name Hula was stuck at the back of your mind as being the
place of origin for your friends and neighbours and your friendly
fish seller down at Koki market.
Over the years, as you took up temporary residency at Vabukori,
you also learnt that a few Hulas lived among the locals but if you
really wanted to meet or see a whole bunch of them, Taikone, just
down the road, was the place.
Thereafter, there was no shortage of Hulas because you met them in
the course of your education, at play and at work.
Soon, you realised that the Hulas were great sportsmen excelling
and dominating in Aussie Rules, cricket and netball.
Some years ago, an elementary school was built in Hula and an
invitation was sent on behalf of the Vele family to attend the
official opening. The school was a collective contribution from
the Vele clan.
The invitation was accepted and the visit to Hula was the very
first in a lifetime. However, the focus of the visit was on the
official opening which took up most of the daylight hours so
sightseeing was unfortunately denied.
Nearly a decade later, Kila drops in without notice and announces
that the boys were taking a trip down to Raukele beach to
celebrate some more.
That triggered the memory box of a song still making the airwaves,
but popular at one time in memory. It was so popular in fact; even
the Highlander, the Tolai, the Morobean and the Sepik would sing
it word for word at the top of his voice during the weekend binges
right into the twilight hours.
And that perhaps produced another challenge. Where or what is
Raukele?
But another question begged to be asked when Kila and Sergeant
called.
“What are you celebrating?”
It was a private affair and they had been celebrating since
Friday. They had only realised late into the night that something
was terribly amiss – you were not there.
Hence, the unexpected visit and the invitation to join the team at
Raukele beach to celebrate some more and go for a swim.
They tell you Edward, Reg, Ron and their friends would also tag
along to experience the country setting in the process of
celebrations.
A three-vehicle convoy took off for Hula’s Raukele beach last
Saturday and it was everything that deserved to be called a
celebration. But more so the discovery that this was the very
beach that sports team had adopted and made great; not to forget,
the song that was on practically on everyone’s lips on those
grog-induced highs of yore.
For you at least, it was exotic, exciting and downright,
beautiful, being the first time you had your foot down on the
famed Raukele beach – the object of many-a-sing-alongs and
admiration and respect for the sporting heroes of this nation who
performed under the name.
Like many of the beautiful beaches that circumnavigate our
beautiful country, the beholder is reminded of how insignificant
he is as he beholds the vastness of the landscape and seascape
before him and his mind is lost in wonder. He is simply swept away
by the beauty of land and surrounds.
And in moments like that, you are reminded momentarily of the
events of recent times, in this particular case, the endeavours of
Francis Steven and his sponsor Ivan Mulina, featured in this
column last week, about their eco-tourism project involving prison
detainees.
Having been to most parts of Papua New Guinea in the course of
your career, there is no doubt in your mind Papua New Guineans are
denying themselves of a rich picking in the field of tourism.
From the sandy beaches to the rugged mountains, the virgin forests
and crystal clear creeks to the juggernaut of muddy waters, the
natural beauty of this land overwhelms even the local tourist – a
person born in this land.
We have it, we flaunt it, but it seems we are too lazy to do
anything in a big way, to reap the benefits that are readily
available.
If Papua New Guineans like yourself can appreciate the raw beauty
of this land in its natural surroundings, it would not be
difficult to deduce how the complete stranger to this land would
feel.
You’d jump at the chance of going back to Wewak or Hula, splash in
the turquoise waters of New Ireland and New Britain, trek the bush
lands of Eastern Highlands and gulch your fill of the crystal
waters of Kaintiba in the Gulf province. Why, one may ask? Because
there is an aura of charm and magic that keeps attracting you – an
in-built magnet of sorts that only real beauty and appreciation of
the land can attract.
This perhaps explains why so many tourists keep returning or
recommend to their colleagues and countrymen to experience.
These things occupied your mind as you stroll along the sandy
beach of Raukele.
You stopped to observe some fishermen plying their trade out in
the sea. That was something that the Hulas and their neighbouring
villagers do best.
The yearning to feast on fresh fish cooked over hot charcoal
overwhelmed you as you note the rising smoke from several fires
way down the shoreline.
This is an ideal place to lay on a Barbie, as the Aussies would
say: “Oi, throw another prawn on the Barbie, Arfur!”
Then something sort of hit you. You noted a familiar building a
couple of hundred metres up from the waterfront.
Years ago, at the official opening of a pre-school at Hula,
businessman Anderson Vele had pointed out his house and invited
you to visit if you’re ever in the neighbourhood.
You were more than in the neighbourhood. And besides, it would be
disrespectful if you did not pay a courtesy call on the now Member
of Parliament for Rigo and at one time, a neighbour, a
brother-in-law and a life-long friend.
You strolled merrily towards the house and noted him sitting under
a makeshift shelter with the family.
“Fino”, a greeting that cropped up from your association in Lae
during your younger years, was hollered, inducing a curious but
knowing response from the MP.
It was a moving encounter for, not only had been years since you
last met, you encountered a once-robust person confined to a
wheelchair.
But as the handshakes were over and done with, you realise that
not for once did he lack the mirth that was his inherent
characteristic during your association in the past and gave birth
to what greeting “Fino” .
The leader showed you the steel contraptions that had replaced his
natural legs and you recalled that diabetes had eventually won out
and claimed both his legs.
You were almost moved to tears and you hugged him before you said
your farewell.
The sombre temperament from the reunion hovered as you walked
slowly down to the beach and strolled towards you mates, now
frolicking on the beach about 400m away.
In your mind, a thought was forming … many years ago, you
discovered the word Hula and linked it to the Veles. Now you’ve
touched based with Hula and met a Vele right near the beaches of
Raukele.
You could almost break into a song for the opportunity and it came
bubbling out on its own accord: Raukele iru-iru-na, iru-iru
mara-lemana …
You stand corrected for the pronunciation, but you were certainly
so swept away by the experience that you didn’t even bother to ask
what Raukele means, let alone Hula. For it is common knowledge
that every name has a meaning attached.
For now, however, I would let that ride and wait patiently for the
next opportunity to set my foot down again on Hula and its famed
Raukele beach.
For that last experience, I thank God for the opportunity and
praise Him for the great beauty of Raukele and indeed, this great
land of ours.
And we are reminded of the Wise Counsellor’s words: “The worst
moment for an atheist is when he is really thankful but has nobody
to thank …”
 
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