MICHAEL GEKETA.

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

THE Boroko and 4 Mile suburbs of Port Moresby city have long been at the epicentre of business activity in this part of the world.

All the amenities that a city requires - markets, shops, post offices, hospitals, schools and police stations - are present.

Because of its centrality, it is also a meeting place for visitors to the city.

One Friday in late February, I accompanied a relative of mine to Boroko to accustom him to life in the city. He had been accepted to study at a technical institute. Back at Solos, in Buka, he had learned of Port Moresby as a place of rascals.

NICOLA NICHOLSON DANIEL

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

I came to this world not knowing my destiny
No matter whether baby girl or boy

I came to this nation not knowing my history
No matter whether highlander or coastal child

I came to the world not knowing my fate
No matter whether I would live or die a teenager

I came to this world not knowing my weight
No matter whether I be fat or lean

JIMMY AWAGL

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Standing at the ridge, glimpsing like an eagle’s eye
The river walks through narrow passage beneath
No man to reach except through effort of eye
The eye’s embrace builds in us admiration
For down there looks superb but forbidding

Nature purifies it as white as limestone
Surrounded with thick layers of the same
Huge boulders entangling each another
Tangling and forming precipitous wall
Creating no pathway for man’s access at all

SAMANTHA KUSARI

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

AVU woke up with black circles under his eyes.  He hadn’t slept well that night. Thoughts of going to the big city had kept him awake.

He had heard amazing stories about the city from his cousins. He had heard about tall buildings and flashy vehicles, big city lights that bounced off the sealed streets creating scenes more beautiful than daylight, stores with every goodie one could wish for and all the fun in the world to be had.

Avu’s parents had died when he was twelve and his uncle Abba took him and his younger sister, Ato, who was eight, to live with his family.

ROSLYN TONY

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

TRADITIONAL musical instruments and their uses vary widely from place to place in Papua New Guinea.

Instruments used in traditional rituals – like the side-blown flute of the Sepik and parts of the Highlands, Madang and Oro, usually played in pairs - can only be used by those who have had the appropriate initiation.

In Simbu the ritual of the side-blown flute (Kuakumba) is known as Kua ombuno in the Kuman-Nagane dialect.

MICHAEL GEKETA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

To parents out there
For defiance your child you scold
Bemused: ‘why daddy and mummy?’
Whereby his deeds you accuse him falsely
Not aware his manners you modelled
By bad and good words you uttered
And your actions likewise he copied

KELA KAPKORA SIL BOLKIN

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

THE Australian Government is committing more than $100 million towards a New Colombo Plan (NCP) which gives Australian undergraduates opportunities to study and undertake internships in the Indo-Pacific region.

In 2015, the program – designed to encourage awareness and understanding - has expanded from four pilot locations to 38 across the region, including 14 in the Pacific.

MALO E’AVUKU (FLAVIA) SENAR

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

She makes the fire
And wakes the children
Not because she chose to
Because she’s a woman

At the bung she lowers her head
And keeps silent
Not because she chose to
Because she’s a woman

JOHNSON MAKAEN

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

MARIUS had his scrawny bum perched precariously on a rusty and crumpled grease can.

His sight was fixed on a marked constabulary utility exiting the police station a block down the street.

The scene about him was one of derelict and disarray. Just beside the row of Asian tucker shops market waste from the previous day was haphazardly strewn about.

A huge pile of damp cartons, old newspapers and discarded plastic was smouldering, producing voluminous amounts of smoke in the middle of the market’s car park.

DONNA MALI

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

DID you ever lose your best friends? Well I did.

A stream of fear ran through me when they departed. I feared I wouldn’t find such friends again. Thus this story is written in the hope it might reach my long-time best friends somehow, wherever they are.

I am Donna Mali, born in the small village of Komi in south Bougainville. Born in the middle of the bloody civil war that saw the loss of more than 20,000 lives.

When my mom gave birth to me she didn’t receive any medication or medical attention. Same with me. Life was tough.

MICHAEL GEKETA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Year in, year out,
Leaders with a heart
For a litter-free Port Moresby
Come in, and exit;
Litterers value them not

Months come, months pass by,
NCD Commission executes policy,
To drive the informal sector;
Vendors improvise, to befit their ethos

BOMAI D WITNE

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

YALTOM’S family and relatives did not know that Nil-mam and Yaltom had kept their relationship secret from Nil-mam’s parents.

One afternoon Yaltom’s father visited them in Porgera and said he wanted to make a feast and invite Nil-mam’s family and relatives to the village.

This gathering would mark the traditional public declaration and recognition of Yaltom’s marriage to Nil-mam, a widely accepted practice in the Simbu tradition.

Yaltom gave it some thought and nodded in agreement. He was glad his father and family wanted to host this feast. Normally in contemporary Simbu society, parents and relatives would leave such feast to the working class son or daughter.

NICOLA NICHOLSON DANIEL

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

SOMETIMES you think you know the person you married when in reality you don’t.

Emily sat down reflecting on her excruciating heartache. She had never come across a decent, genuine person with all the qualities she wanted.

Her love life was always unkind, wicked and cruel. No one she met understood and loved her for who she actually was. There was no authentic value in the way guys felt about her.

There was no spark, no substance and no essence. Love was not in her cards or perhaps it just didn’t find her.

NICOLA NICHOLSON DANIEL

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

I came into this world not knowing my destiny
It didn’t matter to me whether I was a baby girl or a boy

I came in to this nation not knowing my history
It didn’t matter whether I was a highlander or a coastal child

I came into the world not knowing my faith
It didn’t matter whether I would live or die as a teenager

ALPHONSE M HUVI

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

A little girl named E’Maura lived with her parents near the sea. E’Maura loved to swim in the sea but her parents stopped her from doing so when she was alone.

“Don’t go too near the sea,” the parents warned.

“Why do you stop me?” E’Maura asked.

“Because it is not safe for you,” her parents said.

E’Maura was their only child and they were afraid the waves would carry her far out to sea. They loved E’Maura very much and could not bear the idea of losing her.

DELMA VENUDI–GEARY

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

THE sky above whizzes by with dark clouds, a vast sheet of rain overshadowing Lae.

Transparent flames ripple off the bitumen on the longest stretch of the Highway on the Markham plains as we near the Rumion Piggery.

I take my seat belt off and trail my hand out of the open window of the car, catching drifts of moisture on the hairs of my arm.

Fleetwood Mac churns out of the car stereo; coaxing back that free spirit in me, the gypsy in me that I grew out of.

MALO E’AVUKU SENAR

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Four a.m. The night is a vacuum
Nocturnal creatures, tired they are
Cease their night’s journey
And begin their soundless slumber

Mama stirs in her sleep
She’s up!- lest this moment pass
I hear her quietly make her way
To grandmother’s bedside

BOMAI D WITNE

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

Read the first part of this story here

YALTOM began to think about Nil-mam’s parents and what they would think of her living with him for so long. And now being pregnant..

He thought of his own sisters’ and parents’ reactions in a similar situation. “Maybe New Ireland is different”, he thought. “No!” he shook his head. “Parents struggle to educate their children. This will not go down well with them.”

Yaltom knew that he had made Nil-mam pregnant and that she would not return to school. His mind was filled with thoughts of Nil-mam and himself. He did not want to keep Nil-mam in the small company house forever. He wanted her to be free, live in a free world, in his Simbu village perhaps or maybe in Nil-mam’s village near Kavieng.

EURALIA PAINE

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

LEGEND has it that two eel brothers, Gegema and Wode, once lived in a quaint little brook in an enchanted forest.

One day, Wode decided he would go on an adventure to explore the land beyond. He got out of the stream, transformed into a young man, put his limepot into a bilum and began his journey.

Several months passed by and Gegema hadn’t heard from his brother. He began feeling lonely in the brook. There was no one to squabble with, and no one to accompany him to explore the rock pools.

WORDS: JIMMY AWAGL.   ILLUSTRATION: SIMON MATHIAS

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

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
SP Brewery Award for Illustration

THERE were gloomy days for the lone Simbu Woman living in the steep mountains of Simbu with her 10-year old son and one-year old daughter.

One morning an unfamiliar voice floated down the valley and called for Simbu Woman to respond, which she did promptly.

It was the voice of Crocodile Man echoing through the valleys and gullies. To Simbu Woman it was like the rhythmic beat of a kundu drum ringing in her heart.

She abandoned her gardening task and walked up to the top of the ridge to meet the voice.

She carried two Simbu bilums. The one on her head read, ‘Simbu Writers Association’. The one from her shoulder read, ‘Welcome Home, the 2015 Crocodile Prize to Kundiawa Simbu Province, 18-19 September.’

At the top of the ridge, Crocodile Man saw Simbu Woman ascending the slope with her load.

LEONARD FONG ROKA

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

IT was a dawn and our commander unceremoniously barked at us to wake up and prepare for the journey to kill.

It was going to be a forced march over a mountain range and through the dense jungle canopy.

Beneath the eastern foothills, we were to ambush the PNG Defence Force and allied Resistance troops and their transport on the road running north from Arawa.

A few fireflies wandered aimlessly in the semi-darkness briefly distracting me from my fear. I massaged my Winchester shotgun more calmly and confidently than I felt.

ISO YAWI

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

In solemn act of goodwill
Honesty in a sincere heart
I took a genuine oath
A pledge of inner integrity

To serve my nation as a writer
With the ink that my biro unleashes
And the bulk of words in me
As my contributions to the nation

JIMMY AWAGL

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

I offer you sweet potato
You prepare rice
I offer you sago
You demand bread
I grow kaukau but eat rice

I offer you malos
You prepare hard yakka
I offer you grass skirt
You prepare jeans
I keep traditional costume but wear jeans

FIDELIS SUKINA

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

HAVING been tricked to accept a job offer by two young seemingly innovative entrepreneurs, Sylvester woke up in a dark room in chains.

He sat down in the corner, lost and afraid, trying to recall what had happened the previous night.

It was not by chance he had been trapped by this dastardly deed. It had been planned. He had been invited to dinner, got drunk and ended up in chains, a similar story to many others.

He begged for help, for justice, but he had been sold to the highest bidder.

LEONARD FONG ROKA

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

A group of young boys fighting over a dish of rice and tinned fish may not seem like much to you.

But it was my first insight into the election campaign strategies and the many issues that face Baubake constituency in south Bougainville.

Baubake has the largest population in the Buin District and, in the 2015 Bougainville general election for which polling is just wrapping up, eight energetic people are contesting the seat: Steven Kopana, Jonathan Komba, John Pookey Sigere, Charles Laia, Joseph Buia, Paul Bakoi, Joseph Tooke and Thomas Joseph Lugabai.

The contending candidates have made every attempt to get the people to vote them as their representative in the next Autonomous Bougainville Government. Their campaign was a night and day affair as they travelled the constituency from end to end.

MARLENE DEE GRAY POTOURA

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

FIRST of all, meet the characters in our story….

Koko is a grand and mysterious bird that only the bravest children can callsupposing they camp below a mountain and build an attractive runway to its nest.

Elias is an ugly but friendly wild boar with the strength of ten boars.

Flavia, Fatima and Filomena are sisters and gorgeous white ducks.

Hihi is a big black hornbill with a long colourful beak and clever beady eyes.

Hoohoo is a creature Kari found in a dormant volcano. It has a wobbly, bouncy, rubbery, hairy body.

Mala came out of the Rocky Mountains during a landslide. Its body is hard, like layers of brick, and it has a square head with teeth protruding out of its mouth - two on the top lip and three on the bottom.

Kari is a pretty, fuzzy-haired 12- year old girl who loves all creatures great and small.

Kepler is an 11-year old boy with a rare talent to understand strange creatures. He is like a wild creature trainer and attracts creatures of all sorts. But he has a short temper and is sometimes very selfish.

JIMMY AWAGL

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

THE rain trees surrounding Wewak town look so glamorous, especially on a Friday afternoon as the sun drifts along to sandaun while still a yellowish colour. Wewak Hill glistens in the evening sunshine.

We hopped on a PMV bus from Wiruwi and rode into Wewak. The bus dropped us off in town and we strolled all the way to the islands boat stop and asked around for Uncle Andrew.

Andrew, the talkative uncle of the crocodiles, owns a 24-foot banana boat. He lives at Mushu Island and comes into town each day transporting mothers and their produce for market.

FRANCIS NII

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

IN Papua New Guinea, people with a disability - people like me - are marginalised and neglected. They experience misery on daily basis.

Chauvinism and poverty are the two killers of disabled people in our society, particularly paraplegics and polio victims.

Public ridicule and stigmatisation are the worst forms of chauvinism, creating social barriers that deter disabled people from exercising their freedom of movement and participating equally in programs and activities.

BOMAI D WITNE

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

YALKUNA Tine, Kumai-kane Balai and Bomailyn accompanied their father from Goroka to Rosary Secondary School on Thursday afternoon last week.

Balai and Bomailyn were excited to visit a new place and were looking forward to the trip but Yalkuna joined reluctantly. He wanted his mum to come with him.

The Mt Hagen bound 25-seater bus was almost full and we were soon on our way along the highway.

The children occupied the seat in the middle row and, by the time the bus approached Kabiufa Secondary School, a few kilometers out of Goroka, they were half asleep. The loud music did not stop their slumber.

BUSA JEREMIAH WENOGO

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

A strong and healthy tree stood among the rocks. The sea crashed on the rocks and gushed its way into the tree’s roots while a powerful wind gusted into its branches. Yet it stood without fear.

The sight baffled me. I had rarely seen such wonder. How could it be that a tree grew among the rocks? Taking a closer look, I found its roots originated in a higher, fertile part of the earth.

The roots were rugged and strong enough to weather raging waves and angry winds.

Filled with intense curiosity, I wondered why it had chosen to spend its life away from its own kind. Was it an orphan or has it been chased away by its fellows?

DOREEN BAULONI

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

THE long weeks of rain had just stopped and the sun was shining. ‘Let it shine and dry the place,’ Leseli said to her mother.

They sat on the verandah chatting. ‘I want to go and roam around,’ she had said. ‘I hate sitting in the house watching the rain fall. It makes the place muddy.’ She made the remark while enjoying the sight and feel of it in her adventurous mind.

She had longed to go picking blackberries in the bush. She missed going and climbing laulaus with friends. She thought of the last time they had gone to collect the fruits. Her cousin brother had threaded one which she wore around her neck and walked back to the house.

During the rainy days she would sneak out of the house while her parents were sleeping in the room. Joining her friends they would run and splash in the puddles.

DANIEL KUMBON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Award for Tourism, Arts & Culture

A place shrouded with mystery and intrigue – a place where human sacrifice was offered to the gods is etched for ever in my memory.

It is Teotihuacan an ancient ruin near Mexico City which I was privileged to visit during the 17th International AIDS Conference seven years ago. I was dressed like always in my hand woven PNG Highlands cap and long beard.

We 60 international journalists met five people living with HIV and AIDS at the Clinica Condesa – an impressive government funded health facility specializing in free treatment for 4,000 patients in the city.

They bravely told us how they had contracted the virus in different ways and warned against risky sexual behaviour. With broad smiles spreading across their faces, they wished us a safe stay in the city and a safe return to our countries.

FRANCIS NII

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

THE Australian foreign affairs minister Julie Bishop should apologise to the people and the government of Papua New Guinea and retract her government’s intention to clandestinely interfere in PNG’s internal affairs by establishing a diplomatic mission on Bougainville.

Of all nations, Australia should be the last to even contemplate such a grave political injury against its closest neighbour and friend when she knows very well that Bougainville is a sovereign province of the independent state of PNG.

On what grounds has Julie Bishop has been scheming to give covert diplomatic recognition to Bougainville? What is the Australian government’s motive?

DANIEL KUMBON

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Kundu drums echo
Garamuts bellow
Conch shells blow
Pan pipes whisper
Sleeping crocodiles stir
the message travels

Through the jungles thick
over the mountains high
down the valleys deep
Over the savannah dry
the message travels

RASHMII AMOAH

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

THIS banter is by no means cause for haemorrhage-inducing angst or furious questions fired to gauge my allegiance to country or love for olgeta man, meri, pik na dok.

It's an alternative to the bleaker lamentations of the societal dysfunctions that have infested our beloved nation. It’s not to be taken too seriously and not too lightly, but as with everything in life, enjoyed with outbursts of laughter.

First up, let’s be clear. I’m a self-confessed, patriotic Papua New Guinean ‘Tiger Mum’. Hear me roar!

FIDELIS SUKINA

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Shall I wait for my fate?
Shall I wait and wait,
Might as well drop dead and die,
Bring me your hate, your ignorant state,
Bring your liquor induced insults,
I just take it mate, sticks and stones brah!
Ain’t breaking my bones.

EURALIA PAINE

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

THERE is nothing more Papua New Guinean than a bilum.

When I am overseas and I see someone carrying a bilum, something uncharacteristic happens. I stop in my tracks and check the person up and down. It is the association with all things Papua New Guinean that stirs the familiar wistful feeling at the sight of a bilum on a stranger.

The ethnic origin of the word bilum is unclear even though it is thought to be Melanesian. It is defined in the Jacaranda Dictionary as a carry-all by women throughout Papua New Guinea. In some areas, the net or woven string, is used as clothing thus the expression ‘meri i pasim bilum’. Bilum is also defined as the womb, the placenta or the pouch of a marsupial such as a wallaby.

In traditional societies the bilum is woven from animal fur, dried fibre extracted from tree bark, sisal or vine. In urban areas, the bilum is woven from wool or twine purchased from trade stores.

The versatility and practicality of a bilum is well renowned. It is still used for carrying garden produce or for moving goods from place to place. It is also used for carrying babies.

BUSA JEREMIAH WENOGO

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

IT’S another Friday evening and a short distance away from our house a bass speaker can be heard pumping music at force into the airwaves.

The screams of drunken ecstasy and sound of beer bottles smashing on the road send shivers along our spine as we sense that trouble is just around the corner.

Since we moved into Erima settlement, we have witnessed several alcohol related fights mostly instigated by youths who decided to get a cheap high by drinking coffee punch and smoking weed.

BENITA BAGASEL

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

Come and go, I watch the night fall
Come and go, I watch the shadows straight and tall

Sounds of laughter
Sounds of Murmur

Tell me something I know not
For all that is to know comes from within

NICOLA NICHOLSON DANIEL

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

A chubby baby girl screamed her first sound on the hilltops of Simbu

Kondo, shouted her father with outrage
You have given birth to take care of her, do what you need to
Prawa, whispered her mother with horror
A boy would be a blessing but it’s a girl, I don’t want to see you
Endepo, take your child before I damage

MARLENE DEE GRAY POTOURA

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

I looked down at my lifeless body on the bed.

Weird huh!

I was five metres above, hovering in midair and Casse Jones (that’s me) was lying on the blue sheet on the queen size bed.

If Casse was down there, then who was I? I waved my hands and slapped what I thought was my face. No hands. No face. I looked down again and there was me, lying on the bed.

So how am I up here without my body?

DANIEL KUMBON

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

THE truth of an old Engan adage ‘the spoken word will remain to haunt or inspire you’ has been fulfilled - at least in my interpretation.

The 16-year old words exchanged between ‘soccer man’ the late Joseph Maineke, Mark Yapao and Governor Peter Ipatas during the National Women’s Soccer Tournament in Wabag are now relevant.

“Through sports we want to mend ourselves and foster friendship and struggle for unity and long lasting peace on Bougainville,” Joe Maineke said soon after his arrival in Wabag in August 1998.

At the time he was the coach of the Bougainville women’s soccer team which had travelled all the way from the war-torn island to participate in the soccer tournament in highlands Enga.

Tears came to the eyes of many officials and players when these words were repeated again by Mark Yapao, president of the Enga Soccer Association, at the farewell dinner in Wapenamanda.

“Yes, coach, you expressed it well. I want to let you know that all of PNG, especially us, the Enga people, are with you in your struggle and we love you all,” Yapao said. “Everlasting peace can be achieved through active participation in sport.”

DELMA VENUDI-GEARY

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

EMILY doesn’t like the attention but she is trying her best to deal with it. Biting the inside of her lip, covering her mouth when she listens, afraid of this change.

Wanting and not wanting to be surrounded by people who care. The afternoon sunlight is muted, coming across the louvre blades and filtering through flywire that is thick with dust.

I feel a guilty. She is only a small girl. A little girl who must learn these things.

BUSA JEREMIAH WENOGO

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

SINCE the decision by Peter O’Neill to support Indonesia’s bid for associate membership of the Melanesian Spearhead Group (MSG) there has been wide criticism of PNG for neglecting West Papua in favour of Indonesia.

Like many Papua New Guineans who believe in freedom, peace, unity and justice I view this decision with great concern.

This deal with Indonesia does not give prominence to the West Papua cause. Instead it only works in favour of Indonesia to thwart any complaints that might arise within MSG countries regarding its inhumane treatment of West Papuans.

DANIEL KUMBON

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

AS soon as Kandep Patrol Post was derestricted by the colonial administration, there was a race between missionaries from the four mainline churches - Seventh Day Adventist, Lutheran, Apostolic and Roman Catholic - to establish churches, aid posts and schools among the people.

People who still lived like their ancestors had done for generations.

Father Gerald J Theis SVD came to Kandep in 1961 and settled among my people for eight years. He established a mission station at Kombames near Pindak village but relocated it to the present day Mariant Catholic Mission.

JIMMY AWAGL

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

THE heat of the sun was heating up the place like sausages on a barbeque plate.

The capital of Simbu Province, Kundiawa, was experiencing a drought.  The four cornered town was covered with warm dust, forcing the residents to move down to Wara Simbu for swimming, laundry and cooking.

Crowds of people occupied both sides of the river bank of Wara Simbu from the bridge upstream to the edge of the Sike Wake limestone area.

AGNES RITA MAINEKE

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

THE pig is one of the important cultural symbols found throughout Melanesian culture, no less in the practices of the Siwai people who live in the south-western part of the island of Bougainville.

Despite the shift to a modern westernised culture in many aspects of our lives, we still practice traditional ceremonies and other cultural activities, especially pertaining to the dead.

To end the final mourning period for a dead relative, pigs are purchased in preparation for the Ori (final feast) and collected in pens prior to slaughtering.

The immediate family of the dead person plan the feast and distribute cash and shell money for the purchase of the pigs. They will also decide how many pigs will be killed for the Ori.

DANIEL KUMBON

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

PAPUA New Guineans look forward to celebrating 40 years of independence on 16 September this year. But many of the younger generation don’t know how emotional it was when Australia granted us self-rule – a freedom which many other countries have struggled and shed blood to achieve.

I feel privileged to have witnessed everything that happened in Port Moresby on 15 and 16 September 1975. As I reflect, it seems only yesterday that Prince Charles, on behalf of Queen Elizabeth II, flew all the way from England to officially open the Independence celebrations at Sir Hubert Murray Stadium.

BENITA BAGASEL

An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry

It’s a long road, rough stretchy road
Road that many dare not to take
Full of uncertainty and bubbles of doubt

Oh how a few have journeyed beyond it,
Describing it in many different languages
How the sunshine and rain, storms and calm got the best of them

CLIVE HAWIGEN

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

“OI STOPIM, nau tasol you stopim. Nogut bai mi kisim dispela guitar na brukim antap long het bilong you!” he shouted.

Stooooooooopimmm! The angry crowd shouted in unison as they advanced towards the accused.

Dispela em bullshit! Scripture em tok Sunday em taim bilong malolo! I no taim blong go long lotu! Sabbath em trupla taim bilong lotu!” the preacher shouted with confidence knowing that he had the backing of the crowd.