The Confessions

Scene 2. In Gilu’s hut. Morning

The two men sat in a corner of the traditional highlands roundhouse – the roof and walls made from kunai grass (also called cogon grass). The building had a small window to the left side of the room but it was sealed. They were seated on a wooden form which was placed to the right hand side of the door. The warmth from the smouldering log from the night made the place cozy on that mid-morning.

Gilu, the smaller and stockier of the two, was dragging on a crudely-made cigarette which he had rolled by placing weed in a white butcher paper. It was the kind of paper that was often used by kai bar attendants in town to wrap cooked food sold to the public. Kare, the bigger and overweight man with a growing beard, watched his pal with some measure of intensity.

A few metres away, near the fireplace was Munu, another pal of theirs, who was of average built and slimmer than Gilu. He possessed a sharp face. He was checking on some sweet potatoes buried in the ashes of the fire, a traditional mode of cooking tubers like potato and taro.

‘Pass me that,’ Kare said to Gilu. ‘Let me get a drag on that.’

‘Here,’ Gilu said and passed the roll to his pal.

Kare handled the roll with care, holding it with the tip of his right hand. He then placed it between his lips and dragged on it.

‘Ahhhh. This is good,’ he said as he exhaled slowly and held up the roll and looked at it admiringly.

‘You should hold the smoke in longer to get maximum effect,” Gilu said.

‘I know. Who do you think you are?’ Kare said.

‘Hey, when are these two men coming?’ Gilu tried to point the conversation in another direction.

‘I feel like I have to go and be with my girlfriend,’ Kare said dreamily.

‘Which girlfriend?’

‘What does it matter to you?’ Kare said and sucked on the roll.

‘You have not paid the bride price of my cousin Rachel yet,’ Gilu said, glancing at Kare.

‘What are you worried about? I will do it when I am ready.’

Now, Munu cut into their conversation: ‘Gilu. He is the son of Mondo – you know Mondo?’

‘Okay, okay, I get it,’ Gilu said.

Kare carried on. ‘But now I am thinking more about Poro.’

‘Poro?’ Gilu sounded surprised. ‘You mean, the widow?’

‘Who is Poro?’ Munu stared at his pals, while taking out some potatoes from ashes a bit to the side of pieces of smouldering wood.

Gilu enlightened Munu: ‘Poro is the wife of Mike, the university student who was killed in a car accident in Lae city early last year.’

‘Oh, that one!’ Munu looked at Gilu with interest in his eyes. ‘Yeah, she looks good – she is a looker, a pretty one. She must be twenty-two now with a one-year-old child. I would not mind marrying her. I -’

‘Munu, stop it!’ Kare raised his voice. ‘She is mine!’

‘How come?’ Munu asked. He looked surprised and disappointed. ‘You have children from two other women and you want – ‘

‘Stop it, Munu!’ Kare now barked at the slimmer man and the cigarette he was holding in his right hand fell onto the floor. ‘Are you challenging me?’

‘Munu, stop it!’ Gilu now supported Kare.

‘Well , I thought –‘ Munu tried explaining.

‘Stop it Munu! I said stop it!’ Kare shouted. ‘Do not think. Poro is mine!’

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, as if it was timed to start after Kare’s call.

‘Sssshhh!’ Gilu said to the others in the house.

The noise of the three men died quickly as if there was no shouting at all seconds earlier. They listened keenly.

Then Gilu called out, ‘Hey, who’s there?’

‘It is us – Robert and Luke!’ a voice from behind the door said.

‘Munu, open the door!’ Gilu told his pal.

Munu man got up lazily from the stool near the fireplace and moved towards the door and opened it. Two men entered the room - the first was tall, muscular and unshaven and had a cruel face with thick eyebrows. He wore a long, green pair of trousers, like the army-issued type and a dirty brown T-shirt. He wore KT26 sandshoes. The other man was of average size and was neatly dressed – he was clean-shaven and in shorts and donned a Polo shirt with a pair of slippers for footwear.

‘Hey, what was the argument about?’ the tall man asked in a toneless voice.

‘What argument?’ Gilu said.

‘We heard someone shouting. Kare, is everything okay?’ the tall one continued.

‘Yes. It is a small thing, Robert,’ Kare said. ‘I was making a point about something to Munu.’

‘Munu, what is your problem?’ Luke, the other man, asked.

‘Luke, we were talking about Poro,’ Munu said to Luke.

‘You mean the widow?’ Luke asked.

‘He spoke as if he was interested in Poro,’ Kare added.

‘Munu, Poro belongs to Kare,’ Luke said. ‘If you or anyone gets in the way, you will get it. Do you understand that?’

‘Well, I was –‘ Munu tried explaining.

‘No, do you understand what I am saying?’ Luke raised his voice. ‘You stay away from Poro! She belongs to Kare!’

Scene 3. In Gilu’s hut. Night

The three other men had left hours ago. Only Gilu and Munu remained in Gilu house. It was early afternoon. It was quiet outside.

‘I did not know that Kare was that serious about Poro,’ Munu said to Gilu, while holding onto the rolled cigarette in his hand.

The two sat on the wooden form, side by side.

‘Give me that roll,’ Gilu said.

‘Here,’ Munu said and handed him the crudely-rolled fag.

Gilu took the roll and placed it between his lips and sucked at the burning substance within the paper. The acidic smell filled the interior of the house.

‘Yes, it is because he does not talk about that to everybody,’ Gilu responded.

‘What I cannot understand is why should people like him marry one girl, a year later marry another and then another year later go for another?’ Munu shook his head.

Gilu exhaled another drag and said complacently: ‘Well, he is the big man!’

‘Big man or no big man. It is not right. Doesn’t the Bible teach that we should have only one wife?’

Gilu dragged on the roll again before answering. ‘I think we are not in the right mood to talk about the Bible. We are intoxicated.’

‘It just is not fair. One person marrying many women is not right.’

‘I know, my brother, but you know –‘

‘Know what?’ Munu stared at his pal.

‘You know, in our culture it is money and status that influence everything. Even the politicians do it. That is the way it is. People like you think like a westerner.’

‘But it is not right.’

Gilu took another drag before responding. ‘Yes, I know.’

‘What a corrupt type of society and culture.’

‘Gilu exhaled before responding: ‘Yes, I know. Everything here is corrupt!’

Scene 4. Imelda’s house. Night

Sounds of crickets chirping outside could be heard by people from within the house. Inside the house itself, whirring sound of a manual sewing machine being used could be heard. Imelda, a woman in her fifties who was huge, sat beside the machine and turned the wheel to get it to put stitches into the material that she pulled with her other hand.

A few metres away, her niece - Poro, a slim, young beautiful mother in her early twenties - arranged the cutlery and dishes near the sink after washing them in the dish of water in the sink.

Imelda spoke above the sound of the machine: ‘Are you finished yet with the plates and dishes?’

‘Yes, I am just putting the last stuff away,’ Poro said.

‘Good. Is Joshua asleep?’

‘I think he is. I will check on him.’

‘Okay.’

Poro moved towards the bedroom door and opened it. She looked into the room and then closed the door.

‘Yes, he is asleep. So, is Rebecca.’

‘Good. I want you to come and sit here. I want to talk to you,’ Imelda said, pointing to a chair on the other side of the machine.

Poro walked towards her aunt and sat down in the chair. The machine’s whirring sound stopped. Imelda took the material off the machine and held it up to have a look at it. ‘I am just completing the quilt for Joshua.’

‘It looks very nice, Aunty,’ Poro said, also admiring the colourful cloth that was held up. ‘He will treasure it like he does with mine.’

‘You should try to sew more,’ Imelda said and folded the quilt and placed it on the side of the table which the machine was on.

‘I will try to.’

Imelda cleared her throat and then spoke: ‘You know it will be almost 18 months now since Mike has left us and I want you to feel free to remarry. There is nothing stopping you from doing that.’

‘Yes, Aunty.’

‘Joshua needs to grow up with an adult male in the house,’ Imelda said, looking at Poro. ‘Louis is seventeen and may leave the village if he is successful in his studies – or decide to get married and settle in the woman’s village. You know today men often spend their lives more in their wives’ villages than their own.

‘Yes, Aunty.’

‘You know this is the third time I am mentioning it.’

‘Yes,’ Poro said softly.

‘Did you hear what I said?’

‘I did.’ She was a bit louder now.

‘You know Pastor Bob is unmarried too after his wife passed away three years ago,’ Imelda said.

‘Okay,’ Poro said with some care as if she was expecting that.

‘I am not forcing you, but just suggesting,’ the older woman said. ‘You know Louis cannot continue to stand up for us when Pastor Bob and other good men are away from the village. Louis too may leave for another place – of further education if he does well.’

As soon as she ended that sentence there was a noise outside – to the eastern side of the house where the track from the bottom of the village led up to the gardens and other houses further up the ridge. People were singing outside.

‘Ahh – ’ Poro tried saying something.

‘Ssshhh,’ Imelda hushed her and stared towards the front door slanting, her head a bit to the east.

‘Who are they?’ Poro asked quietly.

‘Possibly Kare’s boys,’ Imelda said, still listening up. ‘They are the main group of men who do this kind of thing! They have been doing this lately.’

The two women sat quietly and listened. The singing was becoming louder.

A voice was hear singing: ‘Oh, is everybody asleep – the angels and beauties?’

Another was also singing: ‘Oh, sweet … angels … in … the … night.’

Then a third man spoke up: ‘Ssshhh. Enough! Robert, Luke! Ssshhh.’

The first voice called out: ‘Kare’s angel, are you there?’

The third man tried hushing him: ‘Ssshhh.’

The second voice came on again, singing: ‘Angel … in … the … night!’

Imelda got off her chair suddenly and marched towards the door. She yanked the door open and stared into the darkness outside. Poro got up from her chair and walked slowly towards her aunt.

‘Kare!’ Imelda shouted loudly. ‘Kare!’

‘Aunty!’ Poro tried stopping her.

‘Kare?’ Imelda called out. ‘Are you out there? Kare! Why are you there and this time of the night?

‘Aunty!’ Poro walked closer towards Imelda.

The second male’s voice called towards the house: ‘Who’s that? Who’s that?’

The first voice gave an answer: ‘It is the old hag!’

‘Ssshhh,’ the person with the third voice said.

‘Kare, take your boys away!’ Imelda called. ‘You hear! It is past midnight. People have to rest! Don’t you people have any sense of respect for others!’

The second voice: ‘Who is she to talk like that?’

‘Ssshhh,’ the third voice said to his pals. ‘Enough, let’s go!’

The first voice came on again: ‘It is just the old hag! Old hag! Old hag!’

‘Kare! I think I can hear you from here,’ Imelda spoke in the direction where the sound of the voices was coming from. ‘You hear me? Take your people away! You’re disturbing the peace around here!’

Two minutes later, there was silence. The men with their sounds diminished as they walked further up the ridge. Imelda turned from the door and shut it. Poro was standing a metre away from her, looking concerned.

‘See what I mean?’ Imelda said. ‘There are bad men all over the village in the next villages too. They will do anything to get what they want. A good man will look after you and Joshua.’

‘Why are they doing that?’ Poro asked.

‘Louis should have stayed here instead of going with the others for the rugby match. I will give him a good talk when he gets back.’

‘Aunty, why are they doing this?’ Poro asked.

‘It is the homebrew and marijuana that is turning men into devils. It has messed up their brains and all they think about is their own pleasure,’ Imelda said. ‘There is no sense of respect at all for others. It is a selfish way of living!’