| Sports |
Shamed by countrymen
Patriot Siuke is
feeling the pinch of evil acts perpetrated by criminals in our
midst, writes JACK METTA
SIUKE was shaking his head in obvious
disapproval and grimacing in anger – the combined gestures
almost causing his head to snap off his shoulders.
You could tell that Siuke was seething with anger, his whole
being contorting and spasming on its own accord, as if to eject
the poison within that was charging up his emotional chords and
making him breath fire.
By and by, he let a sigh slip through his thick lips and tried
vainly to relax his body. Your mind conjures up an image of a
fuming Shrek with smoke coming out of his ears.
“What’s up mate?” you greet him.
“I want to denounce my citizenship,” he replies, the answer
catching you by surprise.
“Pardon?”
“I said I want to denounce my citizenship,” he says raising his
voice, and you could detect the obvious spite and malice in his
utterance. “I want to shrug off this … this tag of being a Papua
New Guinean. I am totally ashamed of being a Papua New Guinean.
I can’t stand being a Papua New Guinean when my own countrymen
are killing people without a second thought. It shames me to the
very bone.”
A sullen look crossed his face and he looked away, as if
summoning the energy to say some more.
“What’s gotten into you old friend?” you ask, the question met
by a long silence.
He suddenly jerked forward and looked you in the eyes.
“You know, I reckon this country is going to the dogs. We really
do have a law and order problem. There is no respect for life
anymore. Everyday, you are reading or hearing or seeing reports
about people killing people – Papua New Guineans killing Papua
New Guineans or worst still, Papua New Guineans killing
expatriates who are here with noble intentions to help our
country move forward.
“I get terribly upset that Papua New Guineans would stoop so low
as to commit murder – an atrocity upon another fellow human
being. I know I can’t get myself to take another person’s life
even though at times, I am angered beyond reproach to do just
that. But I can’t do it and you know, I don’t think I ever will.
One really has to be possessed by the Devil to take another
person’s life and I’m starting to really believe that, yes,
there are a minority of possessed people on the loose, who are
hell-bent on bringing this whole country to its knees …”
He tapers off, assuming a poise that indicated his mind had
wondered off into the unknown seeking divine guidance to heal
his wounds.
You knew only too well not to interrupt when Siuke was in this
frame of mind. Besides, you have always maintained that when
someone was speaking his mind, it was fair and prudent to allow
him or her to cast their burdens off their chests.
“Everyday, there are reports of evil at work,” Siuke continues,
“tribal fights in the Highlands with no respect for life and
property, even if the latter is established by generous-minded
outsiders just to help the local people. Everyday, there are
reports of sorcery-related killings, innocent people losing
their lives to people whose mind-set are decided by their own
perceptions and beliefs; everyday, a young innocent woman or a
mother is raped by marijuana-smoking, homebrew gulching drugged
bodies; everyday, a man or a woman in the service of God is
attacked, raped or killed; everyday a law-abiding God-fearing
man or a woman is stabbed or shot dead in his or her own home by
stone heads … So much for a man’s home is his castle … There’s
is no guarantee for privacy and security any more …”
Siuke bows his head in utter shame and you feel it too. It sort
of washed over you and you could almost feel the pain he was
enduring. It was as if he was feeling the pinch of all the
atrocities committed by fellow Papua New Guineans upon their own
people and the weight was overwhelming. You could well
understand his anger and discontentment with the society he was
born into. And the feeling was bubbling up inside you too.
Siuke often talked of trusting no one; not even the neighbours.
“The moment you turn, they’ll stab you in the back,” was his
motto and he ensured those around him and sundry were reminded
often enough of these fear.
“Even the best of them have come to this predicament,” he
mumbles, as if remembering something long lost in the mists of
his mind. “You know those times when you think … or believe
rather, that what happens to your neighbour won’t happen to you.
Well, many have learnt with much, much regret that this is not
so. Quite a number have not even lived to regret it, I must say
…” Siuke tapers off again but not before you detect a crack in
his voice.
The ensuing silence was almost deafening. Your ears were finely
tuned to catch Siuke’s ensuring remarks but it did not come. The
more you cocked your ear, the louder the silence got in the
absence of the expected words. By and by, a movement catches
your eye and you turn to see Siuke withdrawing his thumb where
he had swiped the corner of his eyes. The man was in tears and
the reason suddenly became clear to you.
Siuke had lost a nephew to raskols down the street several years
ago. They had stabbed him to death because he had no money on
him except a few toeas for his bus fare to attend a youth
fellowship at Boroko.
Siuke had considered his death a great loss because the young
man was being primed by the local congregation to become a
pastor of the church and he had shown every capability of
becoming one and a good one at that.
Siuke had wept bitter tears over his death but later came to
acknowledge that “the Good Lord worked in mysterious ways and if
it was his will, who am I to question that”.
Then about two years ago, Siuke was returning home when a badly
mauled body was taken out of the local tuckershop by a couple of
men and dumped unceremoniously beside the road in front him.
Siuke was sick for days on end because through the blood and
gore, he recognised the body as that of a young man who lived
several blocks away from his place.
The young man was a victim of that notorious saying of “being in
the wrong place at the wrong time”.
The story went that his parents had sent him to the tuckershop
to buy protein for their dinner. He had arrived only minutes
after a couple of local youths had held up the tucker shop and
robbed it of a substantial amount of cash.
“Where would it all end?”
The question brought you back from your straying thoughts. It
was a good question if ever there was one.
Papua New Guinea calls itself a Christian country yet the crime
rate speaks to the contrary. In the current world where
technology had practically reduced it to a global village, the
neighbours are obviously watching.
Siuke knows what they are thinking and saying and whilst he has
always considered himself a proud Papua New Guinean, he is
starting to have second thoughts. He shivers at the mere though
of being linked to murderers and rapists by nationality and
fears that the future is not as bright as our politicians claim
it to be.
In the old days, PNG had its own laws where strict adherence
were required to the point of death. In fact, if you went
against the norm of society then, you were put to death, period.
Today, the Western laws and statutes of being innocent until
proven guilty are giving the criminals breathing space to do
their worst. And innocent people are paying a dear price for it.
Yes Siuke, where will it all end?
Perhaps, the Wise Counsellor has the answer in his words:
“Security is not the absence of danger but the presence of God
no matter what the danger …”
 
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