A Tale of Four GK-Youth Heroes from Sydney

by Alfredo P. Hernandez

LETTERS FROM PORT MORESBY GK Papua New Guinea Left: Josanne cuddles her favorite Baby Junior and poses for a picture with GK Village kids. Right: Josanne hammers down a nail, one of the hundreds she slammed, into the flooring of the upcoming GK house. HOW COULD an entire clan welcome four young strangers into their lives without hesitance and offer them love? And how could these intruders manage to conquer the hearts and minds of the villagers in so short a time that they became family? The answer could be found in a small village just outside of Port Moresby. Called Borehoho, it is here where a modest Gawad Kalinga community stands like a young tree with lush leaves glittering under the sun in the midst of a barren bush land while profusely growing roots and strengthening their hold on the ground. When Australians JoeKarl, Joy Lopez, Josanne Musa - all of Filipino descent, and Steve Tutoka, originally from Niue, a tiny island country in the South Pacific, descended on the village shortly after arriving in this city from Sydney one blessed Saturday afternoon, a new surge of energy and enthusiasm swept through the consciousness of the Borehoho clan families. They were certain this was another day in their lives that showed every thing was going great for them. That God has continued to bless them with endless stream of kindness from so many nameless people simply tells them that outside of their long-deprived world, there are people still capable of caring for, and looking after, their well-being. Such kindness, as I have realized later, need not be an exclusive of Papua New Guineans and Filipino expatriates who rally behind the Couples for Christ (CFC) - the backbone of the GK movement - and of those who never cease to support the movement to advance its cause. The coming of the young Australians who belonged to the GK-Youth movement in Sydney is yet another miracle that comes to light everyday all over the world - that kindness and caring could also come from far away places, because to care is to see no borders, and borders are irrelevant to those who aspire to help. If there's a will, as they used to say, there will always be a way to respond to the cry of the homeless however distant they are, however difficult it could be. Although JoeKarl, Joy, Josanne and Steve came to Borehoho to help build GK homes for the beneficiary families, their main focus was something as nobler. Their mission was not only to build homes but also to forge lasting relationships with them because they believe this was the best way to bring about the best in their less-fortunate brothers and sisters, something that could make them better persons, better neighbors and eventually, better members of the community. With this in mind, they plunged into work on Day 2, by first trying to find out what the village needed at this stage of its development, and second, by knowing how to go about doing it together with the local people. SEEING THAT a strip of land nearby had already been furrowed for a vegetable garden using a tractor lent by a generous businessman, also an active GK supporter, the group thought of building a greenhouse so that vegetable seeds - Chinese pechay, cabbage, eggplant, tomato and more - could be germinated with ease. The truth is that it had been long desired by the GK mothers to start growing vegetables for home use, but had always been saddled with the lack of proper place to germinate their seeds. With his laptop computer and some inputs from his three colleagues, JoeKarl designed a seedling greenhouse, complete with materials needed, using special software. And when the materials were delivered the next day by the supplier, except for the timber that would serve as the greenhouse's posts, a group of village men emerged from the bush hauling on their shoulders several pieces of newly cut-down tree trunks. One of the village men suggested that the pieces of raw timber could serve as posts for the greenhouse. Looking at the printout of his computerized design and looking again at the pieces of round timber lying proudly on the ground, JoeKarl had thought it was better to fold up his creation and tucked it away in his pocket. Let these men lead the way in building the structure the village's way, he thought. After all, it's another way of learning things outside of technical books. Says 27-year-old JoeKarl, a civil engineer with the Australian Transport Authority: "It's fascinating to watch them put the greenhouse together … I thought I could share with them the knowledge I had acquired as engineer back in Sydney but here I am, marveling at how they did things and learning from them as well …" And for Steve, the 21-year-old construction worker who is an expert in erecting building scaffoldings, working with the village men on a simple structure such as the greenhouse was one unique experience. To him, it's one calling in his life to help build something for the poor and the village seedling greenhouse was one good start. Despite a sharp contrast in the way of doing things that should have caused brotherly disagreement, the whole exercise went through perfectly. As the greenhouse came about and into shape, it paved the way for the Aussies and the village men to exchange ideas and know-how on doing things the high-tech way and the tribal way. Soon enough, snacks arrived in the form of boiled green bananas, yam and tapioca, and some canned soft drinks, giving them their first experience of sharing food with village men and picking the food with their soiled hands. In the traditional way of thinking like what the villagers would always do, outsiders who do things as they do without a hint of reservation are family. And this scene had been repeated on many occasions around the village while they worked together, eat together and laugh together, giving much pleasure and delight to those who had the chance to join them in various village activities. The days went by with the village kids and mothers getting more and more fascinated and charmed by the two Filipino-Aussie girls. Joy and Josanne obviously were likewise enjoying themselves being with the women - always under the shades of the fruit-laden mango trees - who shared their stories about how things have become for them since GK came into their lives. As for the kids, they knew they found their Big Sisters in Joy and Josanne. For the first time in their lives in so many years since they became teen-agers, and now grown-ups, in Australia, the two young ladies never had the pleasure of chasing with abandon shrieking kids around the village playground in a mock game of witches and monsters. This time, they're at it and becoming kids again. Joy, the 25-year-old GK missionary, had played the Mother Hen to these kids with authority, while young girls had looked up to her for anything that had something to do with teens' concerns. Dishing out what sounded like an advice to these young girls was something she was very at home doing. Truly, she had never failed to impress her young fans. And Josanne, the 20-year-old business-commerce student from Sydney Western University, for one, had obviously fallen in love with Junior, the eight-month-old child of Toto, one of the GK mothers. The youngest child in the family, Josanne never had the chance to cuddle a baby sibling in her entire life that she had poured all her love to Junior, delighting his mom no end. Watching Josanne at length whenever I visited the village and taking her pictures whenever I had the chance as she went about her choirs, I was truly convinced of her growing and powerful bond with the baby. One late morning, alighting from the rickety yellow van that the GK staff used to move around in the city during errand runs, the first thing she did was scan the village yards for the child. And the sight of him was more than enough for her to brighten up, feeling deep inside that her day had been completed, especially every after those rare moments when she would plant affectionate kisses into his plump, brown cheeks. The young soul could only respond with a huge glow in his brown eyes, pronounced by a familiar giggle that has been his baby trademark. Incidentally, for quite sometime now, Toto has been on Cloud 9 because the GK home her family is soon to occupy had been fully-coated with deep red paint. This new home is heaven for her family, having lived for most of their lives in a stilt window-less shanty, boxed in by rusting roofing sheets which were remnants from World War II soldiers who set up their barracks right in that village at the height of the Pacific War. Toto knew too well Junior will grow up in a decent home. These familiar scenes would unfold almost everyday as the youths carried out the tasks that were reasons why they left the comforts of their homes in Sydney - to bond with their newfound brothers and sisters, and uncles and aunties. IN THEIR desire to open up the unique ways of life of their people, Dekana Gomara, clan chieftain, and Gomara Maraga, clan leader and heir to Dekana's throne, had proposed to the young visitors one exercise they could hardly refuse: night hunting in the deep bush that is part of the huge traditional land owned by the clan. For despite the onslaught of modernity and Internet in the modest city of Port Moresby, hunting wild animals that included boars, deer, wallabies, crocodile and more has remained an ingrained tradition of his people. After all, this is how they live - hunting being the source of their sustenance and the bounties from their bush and forest land are theirs for the taking. And so the next day, just a few hours before sundown, almost a third of the village along with the four Aussies and some GK volunteers and supporters, including this writer, set out on a hour-long truck ride into the rugged terrains of the clan's traditional land towards a camping site by the banks of the Kouha river that sat under the canopies of giant hardwood trees. The two trucks made some more trips to haul off the rest of the party that was left behind at the village. Leading the hunting expedition were four men, each armed with Astra, a favorite Australian-made 12-gauge shotgun. It was one hell of a night for everybody. There was great excitement when the two-group hunting party that included the Aussies and this writer returned to the campsite shortly after midnight, richer with catch that included a deer weighing over a hundred kilos and three wallabies. It was the visitors' first glimpse of dead but still warm wild animals, and Joy couldn't help but feel sorry for them. But then, it couldn't be helped - hunting has been a long tradition that it would make someone silly to question it. The head hunter, Maraga Gata, did his best to educate us on how a huge deer such as this one that his cousin Dixon Gomara felled with two powerful cartridges was to be skinned. Maraga, who shot the three wallabies with ease, worked the deer's hide with adeptness - something he has continued to hone since he was 16 - until all the choice cuts were set aside for a treat of deer meat breakfast. It was feast for everybody the following morning as we shared the sweet tender meat which was simply boiled in water unseasoned after which it was left to cook further over glowing embers. The sharing of stories as to how the young Aussies cook their supermarket meat back home in Sydney was something the villagers took great interest in. But on the other hand, the Aussies had been fascinated by the simplicity with which the meat of deer and wallabies was cooked - minus the salt. Same thing with the various types of fish netted from the river early that morning which the village women smoked with entrails and scales still intact. THE BIG DAY of building a home finally came. It's that one day which everybody, especially JoeKarl, Joy, Josanne and Steve, had been waiting for. But the occasion had been made more significant for Steve, who was building his first house since becoming a GK-Youth after meeting JoeKarl by chance in Sydney late last year. The civil engineer brought him the good news: He's looking for young Aussies who could come with him to Port Moresby to build houses at the GK Village. Ever since, Steve has wanted to help the poor in his own little way using the work skill he honed overtime, but didn't know just how. But one day, he came across a passage in the Holy Bible - Isaiah 61.4 - that says: "They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations." He has carried the Holy Bible whenever he went, which he said, has continually given him strength. "I have been carrying this passage in my heart for a long time … and so when I learned that there was now a chance for me to build homes for the poor in PNG, I told JoeKarl 'I would like to come …'" THE ONE o'clock sun was merciless as it beat down on everyone who plunged to work on the sixth GK home in Phase 2 of the Gerehu-GK Village. The first batch of five new homes here stood on the other side of the village just close by - all of them painted in rainbow colors and are just waiting to be occupied. The bare structure of the upcoming house made of several floor beams fastened on steel posts was now swarmed all over by volunteer workers and GK beneficiaries. It was pleasure to watch Joy as she pushed and pulled the crosscut saw until the blade cut through a piece of timber being held by two young village girls, and pausing just briefly enough to wipe away the beads of sweat trickling down on either side of her face. And once in a while, she would get some tips from the head carpenter as to how the saw blade should be held against the wood so it would cut nice and clean. And Josanne … how she went on to amaze me no end with her stamina as she hammered down a hundred or so two-inch nails into the floorings of the upcoming house and it was now her fourth hour since worked began. Just a few hours ago, she was looking battered from lack of sleep and fatigue from the previous day's village work. Willing that some sleep could finally weigh down on her heavy eyes, she slumped herself onto a makeshift bed fashioned out of scrap rough timber slats that was sitting under a stilt shanty just close by and dozed off. But now, she was at it like a pro, swinging the hammer down the nail with all the might her sunburned right arm could muster while I kept wondering how she could last this long. Then, I realized that she was a veteran of two Y-GATs (Young Great Adventure Tours) back in the Philippines the previous two years. "I had never swung a hammer before," she said smiling, as she explained the enthusiasm that got into her in driving the nails for good down the floor slats. In her previous Y-GAT when she joined a big group of overseas youth from the US, she worked the hollow blocks, cement, and gravel and sand lines in some GK villages. With his 6-foot-inch frame, JoeKarl towered the rest of the local guys as they worked on the four wall frames that were soon to go up and become part of the house. Steve, the ever-enthusiastic worker is like fish back in the water, doing with a big heart the latest passion of his life - building a GK house. When the fourth and final wall frame of the house came up at exactly 5 o'clock, there was a big round of applause. Everybody was celebrating, sharing with one another the pleasure and fulfillment of being able to take part in building a modest house for one of the village families. The floor area was almost covered now with wood slats, thanks to the hammering moods of Josanne and company. Work was to resume the next day. Now, it's time for "kai-kai" (food for dinner) of stewed crocodile meat, grilled wallaby and deer meat - courtesy of the village hunters who made it sure that tonight's food shall be a special one for their newfound brothers and sisters from Sydney. There were also rice, tapioca, boiled green banana, sweet potato, sago cake, smoked swamp fish, veggies and a lot more which the men and women had gathered from food gardens out in the middle of the bush land. As far as the villagers were concerned, dinner at home usually came and went with the night without fanfare and sometimes without anything exciting on the table, except for yams and boiled bananas. But because of special friendship the young Aussies had showered on them, the clan members could not afford to let the night pass without giving away the best of what they could afford. AND SO, when Joekarl, Joy, Josanne and Steve finally said their goodbyes at a farewell gathering after 14 days of toil at the village, the entire clan wept. And the young Aussies wept. Dekana, the soft-spoken but fierce chieftain of his clan, could not contain himself. His eyes refusing to stop from welling, he told the foursome in their Motu-Koitabu dialect, interpreted in English by Magara the hunter: "We never said our goodbyes to anyone before the way we are doing now … we know you have to go back to your loved ones in Sydney. If you return, if ever you come to our humble village again, you will know that we are always here to welcome you and to open our homes to you … because you are now part of our family … you are now our sons and daughters … we all love you …" "We will come back, Uncle Dekana … Uncle Gomara," responded JoeKarl on behalf of Joy, Josanne and Steve. "Because this village is the only place on earth that is overflowing with love for us from your people … and I, Joy, Josanne and Steve are deeply honored and extremely touched by your love … you will know …" JoeKarl's voice broke and then trailed off. Unable to continue, he paused and then swept his hurting eyes to his back to relieve it of pain, and looked to his audience once more, only managing to recover after a long while. "… and you will know later, Uncle Dekana … Uncle Gomara, that there will be more young Filipino-Australians who will be coming here to see you, to live with you, and learn from you because they know that here in this village, they will be safe while learning about your culture and learning from you as well … they will be loved by your people like they do us now …" Like fathers about to see their beloved children leave the family for good, Dekana and Gomara couldn't help but enwrapped in their strong arms the four youths that they huddled together in a tight circle without speaking. For a long while, time stood still at the village. Nobody wanted to break the spell by speaking because it was sacrilege to do so. There was sheer silence now and those who were feeling the heat of the spectacle just stood electrified, many of them speechless. With goose bump and all, the members of the crowd could not think of a better way to break the flood of emotions than to start a polite applause, lest they find themselves weeping as well. It was immediately picked up by the rest of the crowd that spilled outside the makeshift "hauswin" (house wind) roofed with woven coconut palms. It went on, growing louder. With that, the bonding between the Aussie youths and Dekana Gomara's clan has been sealed forever. And yet, the stream of "good-byes" flowed on and seemed to be endless. Still unwilling to let go, young girls, mothers and fathers, their eyes painful after squeezing them hard a number of times to allow the tears to show, formed a long queue and each handed over to their departing friends token gifts that ranged from shell necklaces, bilums (woven thread shoulder bags), traditional headdresses and tribal adornments, and "meri blaus" (women's dress), among many others. For sure, Josanne was extremely overwhelmed. Just a day before, we went to a handicraft shop back in the city for a quick browse of souvenirs she would bring home and felt very frustrated that the "bilum" she wanted very much for herself would cost her a lot. So, she dropped the idea and instead, opted to take small items like pieces of carved dolphins and sea turtles, shell craft and a lot more. We drove back to work with her feeling upset. Today, however, she was hit with the biggest surprise of her life. Each of the girls who queued up before her for one last hug and buss on the cheek had put around her neck, just like the way they put on a necklace, straps of "bilums" of various designs and colors that the woven bags overlapped one another until they hanged uncomfortably and heavily from the backside of her neck. "This is too much!" she wanted to say but could not as she was already choked with emotions. Overwhelmed, all she could do now was let the streaming scenes brimming with tears ebbed out as they should. THEN, as in a flash, they were gone. It was then I realized that deep, deep inside me, I also wept and had struggled hard to come out of it. Surely, I'll be missing one of them. Truly, I will miss her. TONY MELOTO came to PNG and sowed the great seed of Gawad Kalinga. Dylan Wilk followed suit to water it. JoeKarl Diaz, Joy Lopez, Josanne Musa and Steve Tutoka also came and made it sure this young plant is now deeply rooted on the fertile soil and growing leaves with flourish by nourishing it with love. The bare fact is that the Gerehu-GK Village here could be wiped out by just one violent sweep of a hurricane from the Gulf of Papua, a common occurrence here during the wet season, but the bond that the Aussie youths formed with the clan families will last forever just like a wall of granite. It is in this kinship with the community that explains clearly what Gawad Kalinga is all about. Not long ago, I learned from Dylan that this is one love story being replayed, and always with feeling, whenever a new GK community comes to life. Email the writer: jarahdz500@online.net.pg alfredophernandez@thenational.com.pg