So I strolled down to the isolation ward in Sir Joseph Nombri Memorial Hospital where Francis resides.

We chatted awhile and together went to Dickson’s Field where the celebration was gaining momentum with the beating of kundu drums reverberating in the air.

We struggled our way through the crowd to find a spot where we could see what was happening. The sun was scorching so eventually Francis decided to get out of the heat.

I gently guided his wheelchair through the throng and back to the hospital.

After leaving Francis, I hastened to the Goroka bus stop where the five kina bus crew was shouting “Goroka–Goroka”!  I took a place in a grey 16-seater Hiace to head to the big town to purchase a plane ticket.

Francis, Arnold Mundua, Mathias Kin and Jimmy Drekore would join me in the morning and we would all fly to Port Moresby for the 2014 Crocodile Prize awards.

Soon the seats in the bus were full and the crew came on board and gave a K5 note to the casual crew compensating him for a job well done.

“Pilot, you can take off,” the crew ordered and the driver accelerated heading east for the Nokondiland.

The bus bumped along dodging most of the potholes and, after two hours, we I arrived in Goroka at 4pm.

Forgetting that it was a public holiday, I walked straight to the airport to purchase a ticket and found the Air Niugini office closed. I cursed myself and my memory.

So I strolled miserably to Goroka Market bus stop, paid the 70 toea fare and took the short ride to the Brick House where my elder sister and her family reside.

Very early next morning I left for the airport. I knew the mountain crocodiles of Simbu would have got there early to secure plane seats.

But there was no sign of them at the airport. Maybe they were still travelling, I thought, and waited.

I was right. About 30 minutes later, crocodiles Arnold, Mathias and Francis arrived at the airport in Arnold’s vehicle.

The time was 7 o’clock, still early, so Francis and Arnold decided that we should find hot coffee to warm ourselves. We went to Mambu Market and got a cup each – and some biscuits - and returned to the airport.

There was already a long queue at the sales counter when we arrived. I didn’t have a ticket so I joined the queue. The ticketing personnel were serving the clients at snail’s pace.

I became irritated but waited patiently. Eventually I reached the ticketing officer only to be told that my booking could not be accepted. All the seats were sold.

Feeling both enraged and downhearted, I left.

Then, as I was walking to the exit, a voice called, “Uncle–uncle!” I turned my head around and saw Uncle Joe standing in the queue to book a flight to Port Moresby.

At the spur of the moment, I asked him to do me a favour by checking if there was a late afternoon flight for Moresby from Mt. Hagen.

He checked and there was a and there were seats available. I bought my ticket right there for K635.

When I came out with the ticket, the rest of the crocodiles were already in the departure room awaiting the boarding call. The door was closed and I couldn’t get in.

I quickly typed a message to them on my mobile phone, “Hi gents! I am unsuccessful to purchase a ticket. All the seats were paid off. Wish you safe trip.”

I grabbed the last remaining seat in a 15-seater Hiace bound for Simbu and told the driver I had to make a connection from Kundiawa to Mt. Hagen to board the 4 o’clock flight to Port Moresby and needed to get to Mt Hagen as early as possible. The bus driver understood my need and sped the bus along the highway ensuring I made it to Kundiawa in ample time.

From Kundiawa I got into another 15-seater and headed for Mt Hagen.

I asked the crew to drop me off at the Kagamuga Airport and the bus sped along the Wahgi Valley arriving at Kagamuga just in time for check-in. I thanked the driver and his crew for a job well done.

There was a bit of time for me to go to the nearby market and buy some vegetables which I packed in a 20 kg bag, went to the terminal and checked in.

I was truly happy when the boarding pass landed in my hand and I looked forward to departure.

Not long after, the boarding call came through. I walked into the departure lounge in time to see a Fokker 100 touch down and make its way to the apron.

I was so thrilled to know that I would certainly catch up with the other crocodiles.

By 4:30 pm I was airborne courtesy of a Fokker 100.

Despite the bad weather, the pilot brought the plane safely to Jackson’s International Airport at 6 pm.  I walked out of the terminal to the car park to meet my team mates.

I switched my phone on and saw a text message from Mathias Kin that read, “Son where are you now?”

I immediately replied, “Jackson Airport, Port Moresby”

Mathias was surprised. “What? How come you are there while I am still in Goroka about to board the plane? Then you wait for me at the airport.”

I replied copied and waited. While waiting I met Kaugla, a third year student from the University of Papua New Guinea.

Mathias finally arrived and met me at the car park. We cheered each other up with the excitement that we had made to Moresby.

Mathias’ tribesman Simon Kaupa came to pick us up and drove us to his residence at 2 Mile Hill. It was a high covenant duplex and we were given a room on the top floor.

The next morning, Mathias, I and met the rest of the crocodiles from other parts of PNG and Australia met at the National Library for the writers’ workshop.

In the evening, I joined the Simbu crocodile team of Jimmy, Arnold, Mathias, Francis, Merrilyn Drekore and Roslyn Tony to witness the award presentation at the Australian High Commission in Waigani.

After a fruitful day of workshopping, I had a marvellous and memorable time partying and meeting new faces. In retrospect, the experience was worthy of the struggle I went through, which subsequently motivated me to publish my first book, My Struggle.

Such are the opportunities offered to writers.