I rushed for the newspapers on Wednesday like
everybody else after the national government budget was handed down in
Parliament on Tuesday. I wanted to see how much the government had given to
higher education institutions in the country, especially for the University of
Papua New Guinea. I noted the amount given for 2014.
I was interested in the budgetary allocation of
K1.5 billion given to the Education Department, especially in the allocation of
K23 million to development of curriculum materials, including the procurement
of texts and resource books for teachers in elementary and primary
schools.
All good for the development of local
curriculum materials and texts for our resource deficient schools! The issue
that surfaces in the area of education is who is really benefiting from this
money?
Many established local writers like Russell
Soaba, Bernard Minol, and myself have given everything to develop, nurture, and
inspire young Papua New Guineans to appreciate literature, writing, language,
and books are kept outside of the loop.
Our books are not picked up by the Department
of Education for whatever reasons. I have published more than seven books in
Papua New Guinea and overseas, with two or three of them having international
successes. It is distasteful when books
with no standards are the picks of the Department of Education for use in
schools in Papua New Guinea. Did I miss something? There is a tendency to pick up texts that are
not properly evaluated by properly trained professionals.
I have approached the curriculum development
division of the Education Department to order my books in the past. A
procurement form was filled and signed, but since then I have heard nothing
about my orders. That is the problem. I
am still waiting for my orders two years on.
A syndicate seems to exist, where individuals
with their eyes on the money have direct access to the Curriculum Division and
the Department of Education. Those who benefited from the past funding will no
doubt look forward to next year’s funding.
One would think that a clear and transparent
system exist where all Papua New Guinean writers’ works are considered valuable
for use in our schools. The logic of this point is that as much as possible our
young people must read what their own writers write. Indulging in local
experiences empowers readers to create their own worlds.
Reading works written by local authors serve as
a learning curve for Papua New Guinean readers. The way a writer uses language often
strikes a reader on how he or she wants to use language as a platform for
written expressions.
I am often reminded of the reason the great
African writer, Chinua Achebe, took up writing. Achebe did not like the way
Joyce Cary wrote the book Mr. Johnston
because it was written with racist overtones, belittling the Africans in every
line that all Achebe could think about was to rewrite that book, but with an
African voice. So he wrote Things Fall
Apart, the greatest African novel of the modern postcolonial world to great
success.
English is the main language of literary
expression and publishing in Papua New Guinea. We must justify our uses of it
in our writings. The “use of English inserts itself as a political discourse in
post-colonial writing, and the use of English variants of all kinds captures
that metonymic moment between the culture affirmed on the one hand as
‘indigenous’ or ‘national’, and that characterized on the other hand as
‘imperialist’, ‘metropolitant’, etc” (Ashcroft et. Al.1989: 53). Thus in the story “Bomana Kalabus O Sori O!” by the Papua New Guinean writer John
Kasaipwalova the English variant used in urban Papua New Guinea is used in
clear contrast to standard English used in official business and discourse:
When everybody stopped
swearing and making fun at us, the chief gave down his decision and our
punishment. We didn’t say anything because our ACO has already finished
reporting and making court with the chief, and now we are just going to get our
punishment. ACOs always right. Prisoners always wrong.
“OK olgeta, harim gut!
Yu wokim rong ausait na lo i putim yu long kalabus. Yu man nogut. Yu man
bikhet. Yu ‘kriminol’. Yu brukim lo na yu kalabus samting nogut.”
The chief pauses a
little to allow his ACOs to swear at us first before staring out and yelling
coldly again (Kasaipwalova 1980: 64).
Kasaipwalova writes in the English variant used
in everyday urban environment in Papua New Guinea. Kasaipwalova uses both
standard and non-standard English to make the point that written language should
also imitate the way it is used in everyday conversations. Thus reaffirming the
notion that there is an “interdependence of language and identity—you are the
way you speak” (Ashcroft 1989: 54). In Papua New Guinea the official languages
of government, business, and instructions are English, Tokpisin, and Hiri Motu,
but it appears English and the variant of English unique to Papua New Guinea—a
mixture of English, Tokpisin, Hiri Motu, and vernaculars are the choices
speakers us in their everyday communication. Kasaipwalova has created a
cultural space that is locally specific to Papua New Guinea imbued with the
power to resist the demands imposed by English grammarians.
Similar observations are made in the works of
fiction writers such as Russell Soaba, Nora Vagi Brash, Albert Wendt, Sia
Figiel, Karlo Milla, Celestine Hitiura Vaite, Patricia Grace, Witi Ihimaera,
Keri Hulme, Allan Duff, Vilsoni Hereniko, and John Pule the energy of the
cross-cultural text is generated by absorbing in their works the multiple
languages present in their cultures.
The knowledge of how local writers have used
language in their writings might simply be the missing link in curriculum used
in Papua New Guinea. I doubt many school children have read what some of our
great national writers have written.
I hope that all that money allocated for
purchase of school texts and resource materials is spent in a just and fair way
that benefits all Papua New Guineans.
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