FIDELIS SUKINA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

IT was two minutes to midnight and you could smell the putrid stench from the toilets. The Eda Ranu company had cut off the water during the day and a foul odour shrouded the whole community.

“Seriously man, I need to take a dump; like for heaven’s sake, Lord help, us,” Jake said to the boys.

“Dude, just dump in the plastic bag and chuck it over the fence,” Junior said laughing.

“Not funny man, we been stuck without water since eight this morning and, bloody hell, it’s almost the next day,” Jake said taking a deep breath and clenching his stomach.

The guys could not help but feel for poor Jake, who had been scoffing aigir during the day. The East New Britain dish of chicken, bananas, greens and coconut milk often had this effect.

ABNER YALU

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

My children have a bird,
a sulphur crested cockatoo,
with ruffled feathers, and impeccable impression,
he could well have been a movie star,
if weren't for his evil shriek!

Now Kaiyo is no ordinary bird,
The hunter claimed, he pinched it off its mama's tetees,
Whilst the little bugger was worm-feeding at 8 weeks,
who can question the hunter,
such brave and fearless banter,
though not so sure, if birds have breast,
Kaiyo no doubt is a carnivore!

We had a mumu the other week,
plenty pork and chicken meat,
Kaiyo refused all fruits and nuts,
even spat out kaukau and kumu too,
as if removing dirt from a fallen kaukau,
he carefully removed all trace of vegetables, 
Chicken meat was his favorite pick.

REILLY KANAMON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

THE measure of Papua New Guinea’s development is not what the prime minister of the country says; it is what a villager in the remotest part of the country experiences every day in his living standard.

The villager rarely had a voice. For a start, the media never had time for him. As a commercial radio journalist for some time, my focus was on prominent people with credibility.

However I always felt guilty about whether what the prominent figure said truly reflected the poorest person in the village or whether it was just propaganda. I felt like I was giving an already rich person another handful of cash to tell the media what he does and believes.

RAYMOND KOMIS GIRANA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Cleland Family Award for Heritage Writing

TE TAHOL is the Buka name for Queen and it is known and understood by all four distinctive clans that exist in Buka; Naboen (eagle), Nakaripa (Chicken), Nakas (Dog) and Natasi (those who came by sea).

The queen culture of Buka is a traditional practice that is as old as Bougainville; it dates back to time immemorial.

To speak about a Queen in Buka is to speak about a great deal. There are five transitions a Te Tahol or a queen has to go through in her journey as a princess or small girl to becoming a woman and queen; birth, publicity, bride price, marriage and death.

BERNADITTE BARAMA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Murua

A linguist told me,
To speak Murua
But I said,
I speak Muyuwa
So, he told me,
To speak Muyuwa
But be a Murua speaking person.

JIMMY DREKORE

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Dedicated to Papua New Guinea at the 15th Pacific Games

Papa come, mama come
And all you children come
PNG it’s time to hum,
Untie the drum
And let the ukuleles strum.

Now is the time to sing,
Embrace your hearts as crown on king,
Wear your feathers, dance on Raggiana's wing.

Gold, red, black and white,
Unite our people's might,
Intensify their strength to fight.
New Guinea islands to Momase recite,
Eagle high to southern low ignite,
And set the spirit of unity alight.

DANIEL KUMBON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Cleland Family Award for Heritage Writing

IN Wales on a very cold afternoon in 1989 I was walking home with a hot bath in my mind when a young man stopped his bicycle directly in front of me.

Without the least hesitation he asked, “Where are you from?”

“Why?” I asked.

“That’s a bilum you’re carrying,” he said pointing to my string bag.

“So, you’ve been to my country?”

“Yes, I can tell you’re from New Guinea. I was there for six and a half months. In the highlands of Mt Hagen, I saw lots of men dressed just like you. I liked your people, they were kind to me.”

JOYCELIN LEAHY

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

PNG
Temptress
Soliciting, I must impress
A beautiful Melanesian empress
Exotic, ebony face, pouting smile
Queen of mountain forests and deep oceans
A living, intriguing museum of world heritage
Conquered, I debated history to tell MY story
My deep secrets a-many, buried and yet to see
I am mystique, “unexpected” my given name
In labour and plunder to fortunes lame
Few they greed and famine all
Papua New Guinea
The mystery
Rich

JIMMY AWAGL

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

ON 17 September last year, I overcame all the difficulties and made it to Port Moresby to attend the Crocodile Prize awards held at the Australian High Commission.

On the day before, a Tuesday, the weather was glorious as crowds of people flocked to the ‘four corner town’ of Kundiawa to celebrate the 39th anniversary of Papua New Guinea’s independence.

It took me half an hour to get to Kundiawa. The thought of meeting my friend Francis Nii was high in my mind.

JOYCELIN LEAHY

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
SP Brewery Award for Illustration

ONLY in Papua New Guinea, would a woman stand in the swamp carrying a baby in a bilum while chatting on the mobile phone.

Papua New Guinea is in transition.

Mobile phones have taken PNG by storm.

Down in the swamps, high in the mountains, out in the bush and along the coast.

No matter what class they are, citizens can communicate with each other using modern technology.

The mobile phone has become ubiquitous in PNG.

Being a country of rugged terrain, restricted transportation, lack of good services combined with a high illiteracy rate, the mobile phone is a heart-warming benefit of modernity that enables Papua New Guineans to communicate with their loved ones.

It is accelerating the transition of an ancient culture.

Transition: Only in PNG. Illustration by Joycelin Leahy (2015)

MARLENE DEE GRAY POTOURA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

SOME people just don’t understand the answer, no!

‘You’ve filled out so well,’ Ray eyed me up and down, drooling like that bulldog from Rio (the movie, I mean).

I stood there, in the aisle at Big V hyper mart too dumbstruck to say anything.

‘You used to be this skinny gangly girl in high school and my, just look at you now, aging has done you wonders.’

Piss off!

JEFFREY MANE FEBI

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Where lights of dawn crash and burn
Amidst the tranquility of its silence
Whose dusts never rise an inch
Lying still in perpetual sleep

‘Tis a place sleep never ceases
Rest is always taken for granted
But unused dreams rise up like mountains
And continue to grow like the Himalayas

O'er the other side
Never once a delinquent's abode
Every man free to his own plot
Every woman single

BUSA JEREMIAH WENOGO

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

I’VE recently noticed the hype of activity in and around Port Moresby as the city gears up to play host to the 15th Pacific Games.

Soldiers and police are present on every corner of the city in preparation for the Games. Beside Port Moresby’s freeways and along its streets are billboards and placards promoting the Games.

The media keeps us in the loop by counting down the days to the opening ceremony elected leaders are constantly urging and reminding us to embrace the Games and change our attitude for the better.

Surrounding all this is a feeling that change is imminent in the city but it is not clear whether it is for the good or worse of the majority of the people. When one moves around the city, you can see clearly the divide between rich and poor.

JIMMY DREKORE

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Principals drinking
Presidents drinking
In taxpayers’ car
Em normal

Even clergymen
And policemen
Drinking in taxpayers’ car
Em normal

RASHMII AMOAH

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

VERY many Papua New Guineans have taken to quietly pondering, heatedly debating or exasperatedly voicing concerns about our nation's seemingly interminable downward spiral.

Our feelings sway between blood-curdling anger and deflated hope.

Themes of lawlessness, corruption, family breakdown  and ineffective service providers punctuate an endless list of societal dysfunction.

REILLY KANAMON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Yesterday I was village kid
I never had a mobile phone
The world was big
I only had a glimpse in books
Oh Moresby, I want to see you
Oh Lae, I wish to walk your streets someday
I only heard stories from friends
City life is cool
Entertainment at your doorstep

FLORENCE JONDUO

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Cleland Family Award for Heritage Writing

FOR every girl there comes a time when she transitions to becoming a woman. It is the time when she gets her first menstrual period and it may be a time when she becomes confused and scared.

This is a story about a girl named Mali from the village of Ulighembi in the Kubalia area of East Sepik Province.

When Mali was 16 she had her first menstrual period, called holomboyhe in the Nagam-Boikin language. In the village are women’s houses (haus meri) where a woman stays when gets her monthly menstrual period.

In the haus meri she does nothing but eat, sleep and make bilums. It’s the only time when women in Ulighembi village rest.

Mali was taken to the salangha (haus meri) built at the rear of the small hamlet of Yalupmongi. There she was only allowed to eat food roasted over the fire.

LORRAINE BASSE

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

I still remember the feeling I had the first time I listened to Pati Doi’s song ‘Anua Moagere’. It was as if my whole body was transported in a wave of sympathetic emotion.

I felt despair and heartbreak. I could not breathe. As if a bone was stuck in my throat.

The lyrics brought a feeling of dread and hopelessness.

Amari mange, abe kibala ma.
Masawako, kusuaki nge tago di ado.
Ugealako makasi lo kuteo ma
Rubem ba – ama ti – inare
Namam kira be kutaokama
Be anua tailalo. Kimaramama!

The sun is slowly setting on the horizon
Here I am alone in a foreign land, finding it difficult to survive
I look far across the sea to the horizon
You protrude firm and lonely
You were frustrated and chased us
We become drifters in another man’s place

REILLY KANAMON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

THE daylight was long gone and the boring lectures, which had ended early, almost forgotten.

Inside Room 16 Boys’ Cottage B, known as internet café, he logged into his Facebook account.

It was a privilege always misused by students. Despite the fact that the service was free, Facebook took up most of the students’ allocated internet quotas.

He had been a critical commentator on issues in the Sharp Talk Facebook group and other Papua New Guinean pages. Some said he was a critical and political thinker, a philosopher in his own right, but he saw that his wisdom really lay in being decisive.

RACHAEL KURIA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Teacher, Teacher,
You are the morning eagle
You stand at the gate
Like a security guard
And caution us the late comers

Teacher, Teacher,
You talk like a preacher
Preaching everyday
As if no one is listening
Or paying attention

DIDDIE KINAMUN JACKSON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

AS a Papua New Guinean woman, if I was able to meet the three most important needs for women and girls, what would I do?

Well, I would give them education, business opportunities and create a safe haven for them which I would call ‘The House of Hope’.

I believe education is the key that unlocks the door out of poverty for women and girls as it provides the skills and knowledge for self-reliance and productivity.

I would provide free education for girls starting from pre-school right through to Grade 12 and elevate the cream of the crop even further to achieve the best tertiary education for our potential leaders.

ED BRUMBY

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Ok Tedi Mining Ltd Book of the Year

Sweet Garaiina Apo by Baka Barakova Bina, CreateSpace, 2015, 238 pages. ISBN-10: 1499752105. Kindle $9.31. Paperback $18.00. Available from Amazon

IT may have been the combination of chocolate, cheese and red wine that caused it.

In a recent dream I was a member of a war party led by my friend Baka Bina and we were splashing through cesspits of human and animal waste to ambush another clan.

The dream seemed to confirm that my literary association, and friendship, with Baka was even deeper than I’d imagined.

HELEN DOKUP

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

I tasted childhood it was memorable
I cried, laughed, played and made mistakes
I learned and knew someone watched over me

I tasted adolescence, the years when the flowers bloom
I spread my wings to fly
It was the years when I had learn a lot
The good old days

JOYCELIN KAUC LEAHY

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Award for Short Stories

WE climbed together, side by side. Chief Superintendent Roy Tiden and I stepped through the tall kunai grass and up the rocky Ranuguri hillside.

The mid afternoon sun fought with its last strength, throwing an orangey tinge on the grass and on vibrant houses on the hillside. Ranuguri is in Konedobu. Below, the sound of traffic in Kone died down as we moved further up.

JIMMY DREKORE

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

"Tick, tock, tick, tock," who can hear the clock?
They talk and talk and talk, but who is listening to the clock?
Like an innocent gazelle we are approaching a submerged croc
We can’t hear the warning sound nor see the hungry croc
A surprise attack awaits us, "tick, tock, tick, tock"

KIRI JUNIOR KOM

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Cleland Family Award for Heritage Writing

IN a place called Siane located far behind the mountains of Chuave along the Elimbari range lived a man named Nongoti.

He was a strong and muscular man and lived by himself in a small hut in the village.

One day he walked up Mt. Elimbari where some of his land was located deep in the jungle. He wanted to make a garden.

On arrival, he started clearing the bush, getting it ready for the garden. At the far end of his land stood two huge trees. They were surrounded by short shrubs and grass in a circular formation. Nongoti could not figure out what the trees were.

ARNOLD MUNDUA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

This story is based on a true experience and is dedicated to my mother who passed away in January 1990

“YOUR elders will be here soon,” said my mother. “They have agreed with your father to meet here tonight.”

“Yes … tonight. We met today and resolved to convene here tonight to finalise discussions on the ambu-di-kungugl. They should be well on their way by now,” said my father from his corner.

It was a night in December 1989, about two weeks before Christmas. I had just returned home after a terrible year at Unitech in Lae in portending danger of discontinuation of my studies.

ABNER YALU

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

I read this book one time, more by accident than any real interest,
“Bookkeeping for Dummies”,
they say two financial statements, all it ever takes,
to successfully manage prosperity in a business operation.

The balance sheet comprises assets equals liability plus equity,
The income statement shows all  revenue against expenditure,
A transactional record based scorecard for business performance.

BAKA BARAKOVE BINA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

YEAH, to all those budding writers, finding time to write is no easy task. I feel lucky to have now published my second novel and feel really gratified.

The process was time consuming and on occasion I wondered how I found time to do it. Writing a book is not something you do over a long weekend. Some of my works took 10 years to complete.

PHILIP KAUPA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Just write
for there's a prize

Greater than you can bear
bigger for all to share

Because you live only once
and words live more than twice

You learn when you compete
but, that doesn't make you complete

Dig deep into yourself
check the shelves of your mind

EMMANUEL KAWAGE HERMAN

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

THE squatter settlements in Papua New Guinea’s cities and big towns have been labelled as breeding grounds for criminals.

And there are periodic newspaper demands for vagrants in settlements to be cleared out and unemployed people to be sent “back home”.

So should the government force urban unemployed and settlers to return to their original communities?

The newspapers and many Papua New Guineans see repatriation of these people as a solution to crime and unemployment. Other people see it as being against people’s right of freedom of movement, guaranteed in our Constitution.

REILLY KANAMON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

“IF only each of us could go back to where we come from, sit by the evening fire and listen to a grumpy old orator once more, we could save the prehistory of this nation,” said Leonard Fong Roka.

“I pay tribute to Papua New Guinea’s great writers who have taken up the noble profession of writing,” he continued, his voice ringing with inspiration and determination.

It was September 2014, and Roka’s fourth book, Brokenville, had just been announced as the OK Tedi Book of the Year, making him a two-time award winner in the Crocodile Prize.

JOHNSON MAKAEN

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

MARIUS ambled lazily out of a Chinese restaurant nestled in a busy street adjacent to Gordon’s main market bus-stop.

The blistering sun invaded the humid atmosphere creating unbearable heat. It was just after half past one and Marius had a small plastic bag dangling from his left middle finger.

He raised the bag to chest level, peered inside and fished out a lumped flour-ball the size of an orange and bit into it hungrily as if it was his last meal.

ROSLYN KAWIMA TONY

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Cleland Family Award for Heritage Writing

RESPECT is a feeling of admiration for somebody because of their good qualities or achievements.

These days people often earn respect through educational qualifications, wealth or career but in the past they earned respect through initiation or quests.

The people of Murik Lakes in the Angoram district of East Sepik Province earned respect through an initiation called Barg Gar or Samban Gar in the Murik dialect. Barg Gar was the men’s initiation and Samban Gar was the women’s initiation.

FIDELIS SUKINA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Paga Hill Development Company
Award for Writing for Children

AS the sun rose above the beautiful green valley you could see the animals coming out to forage for food and bask in the early morning sun.

“Ah Bougainville the land of the rising sun,” said Mongko the Eagle as he spiralled up, spreading his wings and gliding down the valley looking high into the trees to spot Nama the Tree Kangaroo

Nama was a lazy fellow who didn’t like the sun waking him up early. He preferred to sleep in and wake up later in the afternoon in preparation for his nocturnal adventures.

JOYCELIN KAUC LEAHY

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

I felt his eyes piercing into my back as I struggled over the grassy hill. The air was tight and chilly so early in the morning.

“Walk faster!”

I needed my three-month-old Boni’s softness and the laughter of his older siblings. I was exhausted and wished I could stop. A sudden breeze brushed over the tall grass. I shivered.

Usually when we returned from the garden, Bomoga walked proudly ahead, carrying his prized spear with a small bilum strapped across his bare chest. The children and I fumbled behind him.

PAUL DAVID

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

EVERY four years the Pacific Games is hosted by a country in our part of the world.

Papua New Guinea has hosted the Games at least twice before and is preparing to host the 15th Games next month in Port Moresby.

Participating nations spend a lot of money preparing their athletes in countries like Australia and China and the host nation in particular is called upon to spend big. National pride is always a major factor.

Should PNG be hosting these Games?

I think the answer is ‘no’.

CLENCY AMOS

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Up into the Kondiu apple
Who should climb but little Benito
Holding the trunk with both his hands
And looking abroad to foreign lands

He sees the blue mountain
Adorned with wild flowers
And the many pleasant valleys
No wonder that in the apple he dallies

SAMANTHA KUSARI

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Paga Hill Development Company
Award for Writing for Children

KOVA was the fattest and roundest boy in the village. He had a huge stomach that covered almost all the lower parts of his body.

Kova had no friends. All the kids in the village made fun of him. They bullied him and called him names like ‘Frog-belly’, ‘Piggy’, ‘Balloon’ and ‘Big-mama’.

So Kova kept to himself and never joined the village children to play marbles and other games. They would chase him away if he tried to follow them to the river or into the bush.

No one really knew who Kova’s parents were. He lived with an old couple who he called his grandparents. Since he was the only child in the house, he was given the best of everything including food.

RAYMOND KOMIS GIRANA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

I never dreamed of the existence of a place that promotes Papua New Guinea literature with an objective of breaching the so-called ‘culture of silence’; a place encouraging freedom of expression particularly for PNG writers.

I spend time in the digital continent. I research or simply connect with netizens in virtual space through various social networks and websites.

But it just happened that one click on my mouse led me to a wonderful place that bears the name of my country and its way of life, PNG Attitude, with the intention of making friendships and building relationships through literature at national and international level.

JIMMY DREKORE

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Don’t look at the shirt
Look at the heart

Don’t look at the hat
Look at the mind

Don’t look at the feet
Look at the track

It's not the cover that matters
It's what's inside that matters

KELA KAPKORA SIL BOLKIN

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

THERE was a knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ said the Secretary without looking away from his computer screen, the earpieces firmly stuck in his ears.

Salina stood at the door and smiled.

“Oh, my gosh!” he sighed, “Close the door.”

“Ah? Okay boss.”

The Secretary lifted his right hand, clenched his thumb with the index finger and turned it as if turning a key in a lock.

Salina, who was familiar with the sign smiled, closed the door and clicked the knob.

EUGENIA DIOU

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Broke my back whole day with the chores
No rest till night
Am relieved coz everything is done and it’s time to go to bed
But then you give me more work and I say
I am tired, I don’t want to
Then you get angry
No compliment about all the things I did today
No understanding at all
Instead you are angry
But tis ok,
I’ll accept it coz I am a mother and it’s my lifetime job

DANIEL KUMBON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Chamber of Mines & Petroleum
Award for Essays & Journalism

AS Papua New Guinea prepares for its 40 years of independence anniversary celebrations, I am reminded of Massamba Sonko, a young Senegalese man.

At the time I met him, he was a student at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland in the United States.

We were happy to be friends from two developing regions – him from West Africa, me from Melanesia - experiencing life in America. But there was a big difference between us - his people had been under French rule for over 300 years before they got independence in 1964.

JEFFREY MANE FEBI

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Dedicated to Nalepa Diou Febi

Though I listen to myself constantly
Not the sound of blinks have I heard
Nor the sound of hair growing
Even in the storms of my life
The thunderous thud fades to nothing

But this voice of a call
Perpetual call of a voice
Sweet like the sugary sap of a cane
Mingles with my blood
Resounds even to the ends of my little world

PAULUS BONNY

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Paga Hill Development Company
Award for Writing for Children

THE most gorgeous King Bee lived in the cave of Siunga in the Yongomugl area of Simbu where the glowing beauty of the sun’s rays always smiled on the surrounding gullies.

With 100 strong soldiers serving him, King Bee was powerful. The palace was calm and nothing disturbed King Bee and the other people who lived there.

Then one day, a pretty young girl called Miss Frog disturbed the sleeping palace by giggling, mumbling and laughing throughout the night.

King Bee was annoyed and sent some soldiers to bring her before him.

MARLENE DEE GRAY POTOURA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
PNG Government Award for Short Stories

AS dawn arrived bringing in a new day, we were ambushed in our hideout and my beloved father was tied against the awning post and assaulted.

My brothers, cousins and sisters were beaten with shotgun butts as my mother screamed helplessly and wept. I stood still and looked at the tattered bamboo walls of the crude bush shelter.

Without a second thought, I rushed away on my skinny barefoot legs and sprinted behind the old mother tree with the great base. I got down on my knees and crawled towards the cliff.

I rolled down the cliff face as bullets whipped around me, whisking through the prickly ferns and the bristly shrubs, landing against a rotten stump stuck against the stones on the creek bank.

PAUL WAUGLA WII

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

My landlocked country of yesteryear
When the sweet laughter of innocent brides
Reverberated through the landlocked country of my childhood
My yearning for my landlocked country of yesteryear
Is acute now more than ever. 

My landlocked country of yesterday
Was a an innocent beauty
My landlocked country of today
What have you become before my eyes!
That beauty which captured the poet’s imagination
That beauty, alas, is fading now into oblivion

ZINNIA MINGA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Cleland Family Award for Heritage Writing

IN modern society we buy and use goods and services to meet our various needs and wants.

In the past our ancestors from the caves and kunai huts did not buy and sell - they exchanged in the trade known as barter.

The barter system was widely practised in all parts of the island of New Guinea and became an important part of the people’s culture.

They exchanged food, stone axes, clay pots – anything that one tribe or ethnic group could produce that another could not, due to lack of knowledge or climatic or botanic variations.

FRANCIS DREKORE

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Rice

Rice is good for dinner
I eat rice everyday
Cooking rice is not hard
Every day we eat rice for dinner.

Flag

Flag, each country has a flag
Long ago people use flag too
Armies have many flags
Good flag is same as bad flag.