Nobody wins in a tribal fight

By STEVEN GARI
AS a companion to Tuesday’s focus feature in The National (page 14) by Sinclaire Dinnen and Miranda Foresyth on armed conflict in the Highlands, and with the author’s permission, we are publishing this edited version of a poem by Steven Gari, written in 2000 when he was working with Oxfam International on a project with Kup Women for Peace.
It was first published in a collection edited by Sabet (Elizabeth Cox).

I. Destruction
Where there is a tribal fight, there is much destruction and social chaos.
There are no police.
So, no law and order.
The gun and aggression rule, and people are frightened and live in terror.
The local, lively charismatic churches are silenced.
They look desolate, left in ruin, behind the shadows of confusion.
And cannot provide the joy, happiness, laughter and safe haven we expect.
Schools are shut down.
Children are displaced, dispersed and left helpless.
Health services are shut.
There are no medicines for the wounded and the sick, including children.

II. Death
People get killed.
They suffer and die.
Tension and violence are high.
Houses are burnt down, and we all crowd up in the pigs’ house.
Coffee trees and other trees are cut down, everywhere.
The shrubs and forest are burnt down, everywhere.
Gardens are destroyed and looted, and we have little or no food to eat.
The entire village is raided.
Properties vandalised and plundered.
The fleeing, the shouting, the noise, the dying, the burning, the crying and all the chaos are at climax.
The shocking, electrifying crisis is unbearable, and the people are challenged to flee or to fight, for survival.
Tribal fights are not good. We all lose.
Nobody wins in a tribal fight.

III. Run or die
I run and run.
But, I don’t know where to run to.
My grandfather runs with his walking stick.
My mother runs with her string bag and cargo.
Our friends run with whatever they lay their hands on.
Our enemies, once our friends also flee, cry and bleed.
We all run.
We run up the mountains.
We run down to Wahgi River.
Our enemies, once our friends, shout in triumph and celebrate their victory over our loss.
Not long, we shout triumphant and celebrate our victory over our enemies, once our good friends, now defeated, bitter foes.
Our enemies, once our good friends.
We are all playing seesaw, laughing and crying in turn in the tribal fight.
Our enemies, once our good friends.
Together we all struggle to seek refuge and safety.
Tribal fights are not good. We all lose.
Nobody wins in a tribal fight.

IV. The vulnerable suffer
My mother gave birth to my little sister along the Waghi River.
She is not well.
My uncle, my father’s brother, is very sick … might die soon.
My cousin is ill from typhoid and malaria.
My uncle, my mother’s brother from the enemy tribe, died from a gun wound from our village Rambo and his machine gun.
Our village Rambo died from a gun wound from an ambush.
Our grandmother was tortured, accused by our village Rambo’s family of practising witchcraft.
We have no new and better Rambos to protect us, guarantee us our safety.
We have no money to buy food, not even soap to wash.
We have no safe freshwater source to drink from.
We have no proper shelter.
We all live and sleep crowded in the pigs’ house.
Tribal fights are not good. We all lose.
Nobody wins in a tribal fight.

V. Education stops
I want to get my education and be part of the changing world.
But there is no school in the village.
My best land is taken by my enemy.
The land I have now is not fertile and I do not want to work hard for less benefit.
I don’t want to be a grass cutter, a security guard or a cleaner.
I want to be a lawyer or a doctor.
How will I get educated?
We, the children from tribal fighting areas, will never be like the other children who never have tribal fights.
Other children who had no tribal fights will live through to become lawyers, teachers, doctors, accountants and educated elites.
They will make good, educated judgments and better decisions.
They will make sound leaders.
There will be a gap between us.
Money is powerful and has bought guns.
Guns are powerful and have caused destruction, destroying my village.
The person with money runs away and lives safely in town, and sends their children to good schools.
Tribal fights are not good.
We all lose.
Nobody wins in a tribal fight.

VI. Production stops
I work.
My mother works.
My father works.
We all work hard together but we produce little.
We work to make money but we cannot sell our produce.
The people and their produce cannot be transported to town.
The road is blocked.
The roads and bridges need maintenance.
We cannot eat the coffee bags.
We cannot eat all the sweet potatoes and vegetables.
We are unable to buy soap, salt, new clothes and store goods.
Our lands are not put to good use, our labour and time are wasted, our natural resources not effectively utilised.
Tribal fights are not good.
We all lose.
Nobody wins in a tribal fight.

VII. I wish
I wish I could attend a school.
I wish my little sister did not die.
I wish I could buy myself a pair of shoes.
I wish my family will soon have their own house.
I wish I would play freely and sing, swim, and go hunting without restrictions.
I wish I have all the basic services and privileges like my neighbours who do not have a history of tribal fights.
I will make sure my children will live peacefully and competitively in the future and enjoy life.
Tribal fights are not good.
I see that we all lose and nobody wins in a tribal fight.

VIII. My aunt’s village
One day, I sought refuge at my aunt’s village.
They never had tribal fights.
They live well and in harmony with their neighbours.
They have a big house with many things collected over time.
They have electricity, a car, a television and radio.
They have many plates and cups for everyone including visitors.
My aunt’s children eat plenty of good nutritious food and they grow faster.
Her children wear good clothes, own bicycles and are healthy and playful.
Her children have laptops, tablets and phones and many complicated electronic devices.
Her children have their own bank account and cards to access savings.
Her children go to colleges and universities.
Her young children will follow their bigger brothers and sisters.
I see my future as gloomy and shaky.
I am ashamed of my tribe who are fighting constantly and living in misery.
Tribal fights are not good.
I see that we all lose and nobody wins in a tribal fight.

This poem, first published in a collection edited by Sabet (Elizabeth Cox), has been republished by Devpolicy Blog (devpolicy.org) , from the Development Policy Centre at The Australian National University.

Steven Gari is the founder of a peace-building organisation, Yaka, which for more than a decade has worked on reconciliations with various warring clans and community initiatives in the Chimbu province. He previously worked for Oxfam International.