Remembering ToPalangat

Weekender
ANNIVERSARY

Former director of National Cultural Commission Dr JACOB SIMET learns from Sepiks why they thought founding Prime Minister Sir Michael Somare had stood out in local politics; in a way he played Sepik politics by Rabaul rules.

IN early 1997 I was in a river boat on the Sepik River, heading downstream towards Angoram, returning from the opening of a haus tambaran at Kambaramba village further upstream.
It was pitch dark and we could not use torches as it would attract the mayflies, which were in season that time of year. We sat mostly in silence lest we got mouthfuls of mayflies if we talked. In the silence my mind was going through the day’s event and its activities. A candidate for the Angoram Open seat had joined us at the occasion to do some campaigning, for the General elections that year. I thought the way he did his campaigning was loud and quite aggressive.
With us on the river boat was the manager and owner of Angoram Lodge, the late Joe Kenny, who had kindly volunteered to accompany me when he learnt that this was to be my first time on a river boat (although I had been on the river before on the Melanesian Discoverer).
So careful to avoid a mouthful of mayflies, I whispered to Joe, who was seated right next to me. I told him what I thought about the candidate’s campaign approach that day. Joe whispered back to ask what campaigning was like back in Rabaul. I said it was basically the same but a lot more mellow than what I saw that day. Joe whispered back; “Em mipla Sepik olsem.”
He seemingly left that statement hanging; then sensing that I was mentally making comparisons, he quite out of the blue, continued;
“Tasol Michael Somare em blong yupla long Rabaul ya”. (It’s like that with us Sepiks…but Michael Somare is one of you Rabauls.”
Immediately I thought this was an intriguing if not bizarre statement, which might have come from a train of thought which was a long way from the present conversation. But my mind was tired from the day’s heat and mugginess of the river and besides, the mayflies were everywhere around our eyes, ears, noses and mouths, I did not want to probe Joe on that statement. I simply forgot about it and never thought about it again for the next 21 years.
On March 12, 2021, I entered the Sir Michael Somare Stadium in Wewak, with a group of men from the Kabiu District of East New Britain, and three tubuan, to pay our last respects and perform the final rites to the Grand Chief. As we appeared at the entrance to the arena, a hush fell over the stadium and we sensed an air of apprehension. The silence in the stadium made the men and I nervous and we all admitted later on that it made us disoriented.
Despite this, we were still able to perform the tubuan last rites befitting the Grand Chief. We heard later that before we arrived at the stadium, it had been raining quite heavily but the master of ceremonies, had announced to the crowd not to worry about the rain as the “Tolais” were presently arriving at the stadium and that the rain would stop. And the rain did stop when we drove into the stadium.
While we wanted to believe that the master of ceremonies’ attribution of the rain stopping to our possible abilities to control the weather was the reason for the hush and apprehension in the stadium, some of us still wondered if the silence on our entry emanated from something else. So I asked one of my learned Sepik colleagues if there was another reason for the silence and apprehension. He responded with almost that same line which Joe Keni had given me 21 years earlier;
“Mipla Sepik i save tok olsem; Papa na mama blong em tupla blong Sepik tasol Somare em blong yupla long Rabaul.” (We Sepik ssay that his parents were Sepik but Somare is one of you Rabaul people.)
My learned Sepik told me that the hush and apprehension in the stadium was in anticipation of what our party was to do as the tubuan last rites to the Grand Chief as they had been expecting this gesture from us as the Grand Chief had been associated with our people for a good part of his life.
As is known, the late Grand Chief was born at Rapindik, near Matupit Island. He was adopted into the Kabagia clan of Matupit; as brother to the late Jack Pidik. By virtue of membership in the clan he was inducted into the tubuan of Kabagia clan, IaWarwul, and was an active member of the tubuan fraternity at Matupit. Thus it was incumbent upon us that the tubuan paid tribute and their last respects to him in Wewak.

Permanent culture minister
I remembered my first reactions when I heard of the Grand Chief’s passing. I felt numb and like many other Papua New Guineans, tears welled in my eyes. I knew Sir Michael Somare through my work in the cultural sector for well over 40 years. To me he was the permanent Minister for Culture, who was always there when we needed him. His last action in this regard was his involvement in protest against the removal of the lintel and totem poles from the National Parliament.
I also knew him at a personal level, going as far as back as the Mataungan days in Rabaul in the late 1960s. In my grief I asked myself what I was going to do.
I saw all the many tributes in the newspapers from all kinds of people and thought that I could do the same. But how and where do I start such a tribute? Do I start with that story about the two tubuan from Matupit Island which were stranded in Madang, then with Sir Michael’s help we moved them to Wewak where he hosted them for the Garamut Na Mambu Festival and then finally made tribute payments (tutupar) to them with a basket-full of tabu before they returned to Rabaul?
Or do I tell that story about how he tried his best to ensure that I knew the Middle Sepik (Iatmul) story, which says that the two stones (the Beehives) in the middle of Simpson Harbour, Rabaul, actually came from Aibom Island in Chambri Lakes? I decided not to do any tribute. Instead I decided that my wife and I should go to Wewak to pay our last respects to the Grand Chief. Meanwhile I told my relatives of Matupit Island that the following Sunday, we should lay wreaths on Sir Michael’s memorial, marking the place of his birth, at Rapindik, near Matupit.
On arriving at the memorial site the following Sunday, my family and I found quite a large gathering of people. Raymond Paulias, the son of Nason Paulias who was the first provincial secretary of East New Britain and long-time friend of Sir Michael’s, had organised a memorial service with mostly people from Matupit Island, to honour the Grand Chief. During the occasion I was told that the main speaker of the event, Sir Ronald Tovue, a good friend of Sir Michael’s was not able to come and that I should take his place instead, which I thought was a great honour and did willingly.
Towards the end of the gathering, I told one of the elders from Matupit Island about my plans to travel to Wewak to pay my last respects to the Grand Chief. He immediately retorted to say; “We will go and which tubuan will come with us to perform their final rites?”
As my plans were merely that my wife and I travelled to Wewak to pay our last respects and had no intention of bringing any tubuan, I was caught off guard by the elder’s presumption, but did not correct him.
So we brought the three tubuan to Wewak to perform their final rites and the rest of the story is now history.
On the day after we got back to Rabaul from Wewak, my son (who had come with us to Wewak), had a cough so I took him to the local health centre at about 10pm. The nurse on duty was clearly quite sleepy but on seeing us, she kept rubbing and blinking her eyes to wake herself up. Finally she asked if it was us she had recently see on TV in Wewak, to which I said yes. She said she felt very proud when she saw the tubuan perform the final rites on TV. When we went outside, the night security guard (who was from ESP) approached us to thank us for what we did in Wewak and that he was proud to be in East New Britain.
Since this first experience at the health centre, not a day goes by now without someone, men and women, would come up to me to commend us the Matupit group for what we did in Wewak. The other day I was alarmed when a senior policeman called out to me on the street, to wait while he approached me. He asked if I was Dr Simet and for him to once again commend us for what we did in Wewak.
The day I got my Covid-19 vaccine at Butuwin Health Centre, the two young people doing the registration of names saw my name and commended us for what we did in Wewak. After this incident, I told my 26-year-old daughter (who was with me) that I spent 46 years working in the culture service of PNG, and 26 years of which as CEO of the National Cultural Commission, and no one remembers me for that. But I was part of a mere 20 minutes tubuan final rites performance for the Grand Chief in Wewak and everyone knows me. My daughter’s remark was; “It is now your new identity, dad.”
We performed those final rites at the Sir Michael Somare Stadium on March 12, 2021. On Saturday, June 12, 2021 (exactly three months after the stadium final rites), I attended a kutu-tabu (tabu breaking ceremony) in Rabaul District, which included the presence of a number of tubuan. At this occasion, three different people came to me to once again commend us for the final tubuan rites in Wewak.
Towards the end of the ceremony one of these three persons came back to me and offered to walk me to my car. On the way he said he had a question which he forgot to ask earlier. He wanted to know if the three tubuan went to Wewak by boat or by plane,
“No, we now have a taraiu (tubuan sanctuary) just outside of Wewak, and they came from there,” I replied.
“Is that the way the Grand Chief wanted it?” he asked.
“I think so,” I said.

 

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