Papua New Guinea: In Verse Essay, Research Paper
Come fly with me, across the seas
Far East, past Africa,
Or India, or if you please,
It’s South of Sakura
(That’s Japanese for cherry flow’r.)
It’s latched to Indonese,
But go east, yet, from Java Isle,
‘Til Papua you sees.
The second-largest nation isle
It’s Papua New Guinea’s name
That leaves its nature curled.
Within the forests, waterfalls,
Both rivers curved and staight,
The nation is about the size
Of California state.
Fly and Sepik, rivers two,
Forests tropical,
And swamps all cover most of land,
Though forests lately fall.
Mahogany and walnut trees,
And pine are all clear-cut;
The habitats of native plants
And animals soon shut.
The history of Papua
Before the Portuguese
Was largely static. Centuries
Did pass, with seeming ease
As immigrants from Asia came
To South Pacific Isles.
The Highlanders were farmers first,
The prime agrarian style.
The early prowlers worked with wood
Or stone, or bone for tools.
The Europeans came to change that
When they came. The fools!
‘Twas German in the north, and British
Only in the south.
That’s only after centuries
With Dutch as head and mouth.
Spending years still unexplored
Until the World War Two,
New Guinea mostly was ignored
By Brits, Australians, too!
In nineteen hundred, seventy-five
Papua freedom gained,
With independence from control
Without war, unbloodstained.
New Guinea is a linguist’s dream,
For tongues abound at length;
Eight-hundred forty-three were count,
Distinct. It is their strength,
Their binding in their difference,
Though English most can speak;
But schools just cost too much to stay,
When work can pay the week.
Animism practiced once,
Now Christianity
From missionaries reigns the land,
And pagan evils flee.
Few if any natives still
Protect ancestral ways
Religion-wise; The culture stands
As strong as’t has always.
The roads are crap, and mostly dirt,
A precious few are paved,
But mostly, travel’s done by air
When cars cannot be saved.
Buses cross the city streets,
But cheapest transport’s still the feet,
And boats can row the sea.
The farmers there are not too rich,
They grow enough to live;
But crops for cash can still pop up
To pay the bills we give.
Palm oil, cocoa, coffee, tea,
And others all are grown;
But veggies still provide the force,
Subsistence mostly sown.
These days it’s in a pecky spot,
A war in Bougainville.
The natives there are getting hot;
They say they’ve had their fill.
Their culture is a different kind
From Papua, they say.
Examination soon will find
They just might have their way…
For it is true, their fights to be
A country of their own
Have met with mercenaries’ fee
As paid by Guinean throne.
Prime minister, I should have said,
For kings no longer rule
New Guineans. Republic’s head,
And that seems pretty cool.
Of many troubles faced;
The mercenary scandal’s done,
And Minister’s replaced.
The Hagahai are patented,
Their blood a potent gene,
Leukemia sends none to bed,
A scientific scene.
But now our presentation’s done,
Our poem comes to end,
The cows have all come home to roost,
The straight track’s ’round the bend.
The hefty lady’s singing loud,
The hamsters run the park,
The strange young man is saying, “Don’t!
Eat broccoli in the dark.”