Madang Anti-Violence Protest

Dec 7 2009

It has been a tense week in Madang town. The response to the brutal home invasion, rape and torture of a woman who has been a pillar of the community for decades has been shock, anger and deep sadness. One of the few women in PNG to receive an OBE, Madang’s only “Dame” has contributed so much to the people of Madang Province. From hospital beds to rural school supplies to children’s education to support for the fledgling Provincial AIDS Committee, she has been there for Papua New Guineans. Now a rather frail, yet feisty septuagenarian, the lady was an easy target for the hooligans known to be living in the Provincial Health Department’s compound near her home.  The same thugs are suspected to have assaulted the Fred Hollow’s Eye Clinic Physician a few months ago, while he was on duty in the hospital.  In this same week, other women in Madang have been raped or murdered, and this form of violence against women has been increasing over the past two years. The fact that this latest attack was against someone who has done so much for the people has brought the escalation of violence, and in particular violence against women, to the forefront of public attention.  It has also made the international NGOs reconsider their position on being in Madang, and whether they should bring female staff or volunteers to Madang. Fred Hollows evacuated their staff. It is unclear when – or if – they will return to reopen Madang’s eye clinic.

Women’s groups, local politicians and grassroots ‘mamas’  and ‘papas’ mobilised to demand stronger support from the provincial administration. A protest was planned for this morning (Monday Dec 7′09), to march from Bates Oval in the centre of Madang town, to the Provincial Assembly. Late Sunday night, rumours and sms messages circulated, saying  that the protest was to be postponed until Thursday afternoon.  Consequently, this morning, many of us stayed home. We grumbled that changing the plan for a popular protest was a great way to dilute the action and weaken the need for government response. However, many Madang-ites did not hear that rumour. They showed up in force at Bates Oval and decided to hold the march anyway. As soon as news spread that the protest march was on, I  jumped in a vehicle with Nancy Sullivan and we raced toward the marchers. We arrived just as they were parading around the Assembly grounds, yelling “no more rape!” The governor Sir Arnold Amet, Provincial Administrator Joseph Dorpar and two members of Parliament, Ken Fairweather and John Hickey were ready to listen to the crowd, and receive a petition.  For the first hour, various women and men spoke, using a loud hailer. Women described being shot by their husbands, of having a child murdered. They reminded the crown and the politicians that women were the fundamental basis of the family, the community and life itself. We could not stay long enough to hear if people got around to calling for better community policing, more justice, and peace, as I hope they did.

The results of the protest are as yet unclear. But the mood of the crowd was not. People are clear that Enough is Enough. Handmade signs called on men to recognise that their son’s behaviour was modelled on their own, and that women deserved respect.  This may be Madang’s first popular protest against violence against women.  Meanwhile, the woman who was attacked is under medical care in her home, suffering the side affects from post-exposure prophylaxis against STIs, HIV, and the multiple physical injuries she suffered at the hands of men who local people are referring to as “the animals”.

For more commentary see:

www.messersmith.name/wordpress

and

www.nancysullivan.typepad.com/

photos I took with my iphone:

Governor Sir Arnold Amet and Provincial Administrator Joseph Dorpar listen to the crowd

Ubud Writers and Readers Festival, Bali 2009

I came to Ubud to get some writing done. My timing was fortuitous, in that the 6th UWRF began in the week of my arrival. Knowing I was mingling with writers, ranging from Wole Soyinka, Marco Calvani and Shamini Flint to unpublished hopefuls, has been inspiring and excellent for the work ethic. I met some lovely people — artist/designers/jewellers Tisha and Jan Oldham, their journalist friend Margo Lang and Kenyan Shalini Gidoomal shine out — It also gave me the opportunity to take two workshops. My new friend Shelley Keingsberg’s Editing for Writers was a really helpful kick in the pants, reminding me that ‘less is more’ , language should be euphonic, and cliche’s should be avoided like the plague. Oops.

The same themes played through Michelle Cahill’s workshop on poetry. Now comes confession time. I do write poetry. On rare occasions. At least stuff I wanted to have confirmed counted as poetry (or not). Michelle offered clear rules and sensitive feedback: Avoid lazy words (‘beautiful’ ‘lovely’), start with the specific before the abstract, don’t overindulge in intellectual gymnastics and vague referents, don’t be clever or sophisticated for the sake of being sophisticated or clever. And avoid cliches like the plague. Oops.

But when you’ve mastered the rules, she says, then sometimes you can break them.

Breaking the rules appeals to me, and in that spirit, here is the poem I read in the class, that I thought was an example of everything Not To Do, but which instead is, apparently, an example of ventriloquising. Breaking the rules in order to make them work better. Or something like that:

TerGivEr’sation
{with apologies to Eliot, Carson & Cummings}

In the room the women come and go
speaking of Plath and Pollock, or Foucault,
New beginnings (are there any other kind?) are hard.

Beatrice was 17 when Dante was inspired (the 2nd time)
She was 55 when La Commedia was complete. Sappho put it more simply.
Speaking of a young girl she said, You Burn Me.

Deneuve usually begins with herself: Sweater buttoned
almost to the neck, she sits at the head of the seminar table
expounding

“Did you know that Solon introduced coins as substitutes for real value?”
Athenian credit, a currency of promises. My Deneuve refers to disparities of colony, wealth and women’s health while inner monologues swirl

I grow old … I grow old …Shall I wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled?
When I am an old woman shall I wear purple
with a red hat which doesn’t go?

If you asked her, Deneuve would say
Take these days away
pour them out on the ground in another country.

She has a point. Red hats have become too banal to be anymore
a true revolt against yellow fog curling like cats, spilled tea cups, the beauty
of past husbands and etc.

Maybe I will weave baskets and words amid gardens and waves, gaining notoriety in place of popularity, shading my eyes against the glare
of didn’ts, haven’ts, won’ts, can’ts

Perhaps I’ll climb among the up so many dells down,
listening to snowflakes and light bulbs and whistles in mountain
passes of a distant how-town,

No Beatrice I, let me go while I am able,
even though the evening is spread out against the sky
(yeah, just like a patient etherised upon a table)

Let me march against drummers of violent tides, in rhythm with what
– as Marilyn Monroe said to the Etruscans to make them laugh –
Tomorrow will certainly be

I