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| With the flutist, Father Gregory Holonga up at the Tower Top Lookout. Wewak, ESP! |
In writing my memoir I reflect on
the journey I took to be here. In 55 years I have lived on this earth I was
blinded by the negative experience of childhood to see the commitment,
sacrifices, and selfless person my father is in my life. He did things his way to see
that my sibling and I were successful in our lives in later years. Little
acknowledgment did I give the man who is my father, who is now 80 plus years
old and is still around.
Gregory Huiniyayekn Holonga, my Father, is the
epitome of a silent dream. He did not show it but he had our dreams wrapped
around him all along.
He expressed this through different ways.
I was enrolled in the best government school in
Wewak in the 1970s. He let me wait outside the Bishop’s house if he was still
driving the Bishop’s car, doing the mission runs to the post office for mail,
or loading and off-loading construction materials to various sites where the
Catholic mission was setting up a school, houses, or outposts.
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| Father Gregory Holonga in his Prime! |
Even after he left his employment with the
church, to work with the first Taxi service in Wewak and later as a bus driver,
I was shown that dream. Sometimes he drove me to school in the cab he was
driving. Other times I would jump on the bus he was driving and help him
collect bus fares. Weekends were always good to continue to help my father as a
bus fare collector.
Father never verbally expressed his dreams for
his children. Through his self-sacrifice actions and enforcing his
responsibilities as a father if we stepped out of line, he kept his dreams for
his children alive. I was given one such lesson after I ran away from school to
body surf at the Meni Beach one day. He belted the shit out of me with a cane
in the evening at home. I had it. I cried for help into closed ears of my
mother. I cried, peed, and got so scared of my father’s discipline from then
on. I promised myself to stay in school all my life. I knew I was wrong. I
accepted my punishment for my weakness.
If I had not received this punishment the story could have been
different.
Perhaps that experience of fear was amplified
with other difficult experiences I went through in my childhood that cemented a
strong image of my father as violent, cruel, and difficult man. As a child I
feared my father most than any other experiences.
It was the experience of going away and growing
up outside of the father’s influence that opened up another worldview. I was
blessed with the opportunity to learn and adapt to new environments.
In a lot of ways living away from the family
helped me to cross the river of fear on to the side of self-responsibility,
self-discipline, and bravery to do new things without needing to fall back on
old excuses.
I am obligated to acknowledge the sacrifices my
father made to see his dream of me come to fruition. He served the Second
Catholic Bishop of Wewak, the legendary flying bishop, Leo Arkfeld with
distinction. Bishop Leo Arkfeld replaced Bishop Leorks, the first Bishop of
Wewak executed on board a Japanese warship during the Second World War.
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| Uncle Caspar Raksi, Father Gregory Holonga, and cousin Dr. Francis Hualupmomi at home in Ularina, Wewak. |
Father did not ask for much or even complained
once for working with the Catholic Mission in Wewak. I had never heard him
speak about the reasons he left his employment as a driver for the Catholic
Church in Wewak. He gave his life as a
driver to the church without thinking about money or rewards.
He gave all he had to see that I would become
someone some day. I remember his strong words when I told him I wanted to enter
a technical college to become a motor mechanic. He said if I wanted to receive
a spear on my back then I can follow that plan. I knew how serious Dad was with
his warning. I immediately adjusted myself in the learning environment, more
focused on doing well, and getting into the university or wherever except to a
technical and vocational college.
Perhaps the fear of the punishment I would
receive if I failed Dad kept me going throughout my life. Through high school,
national high school, and university I made sure I don’t see my father’s spear.
I succeeded because there was no way I would return a failure to my father. I
have to be successful. I have to get on with life rather than worry about the
consequences of failure.
We are what we are because deep down something
drove us. That something for me was the fear of my Dad. I guess I failed him in
a way by responding negatively to him and convincing myself that my father was
a truly fear churning man. I failed him because I failed to acknowledge his
contribution to my life, my journey, and my success.
He was always there acknowledging every
footstep I took. He was always there with his thoughts and mind on me as I walk
through the dirt road of the forests to the neon lights and cobblestone cities
of the world. He was there in his own ways praying or listening to the wind on
when I would go home to see him. He was strong, charismatic, and firmly
entrenched in the ways of his ancestors and people—my people and ancestors too.
He gave his knowledge of our cultures, traditions, and way of life to me
without asking for any commissions, payments, or tokens. He was a man happy to
support his children through school and beyond the simple life-style he lived
as a villager.
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| Gregory Holonga plays the long bamboo flute |
Dad was not educated to the level I have
reached, but he was had contributed so much to my life as a scholar writer. He
told me stories about our family, village, people, and the world of our
forefathers and ancestors. He kept me away from entering the initiating house.
He wanted me to remain focused on my education. He did not have money, but he
had so much knowledge to give me throughout my life. It is the very knowledge I
received from him that earned me a doctorate from the University of Minnesota
in the United State of America. I wrote about healing ritual utterances and
narratives of my people in the Nagum Boiken speaking area of the East Sepik
province. I acknowledge my Father as the village professor credited for his
unfailing commitment to see me succeed.
I have learnt to convert guilt into a positive
experience. I had so much to feel guilty about in the difficult relationship I
had with my father throughout much of my teen years, through to 20s, 30s, and
40s, even though I had forgiven him soon after the birth of my first biological
daughter, Cheryl. That forgiveness was made at a time when I was going back and
forth between Papua New Guinea and the USA.
It was also a time of transitions for me. I had
to build bridges instead of ignoring the importance of family and the social
cultural network I have to stand on for legitimation as a Papua New Guinean from
a particular province, district, ward, and village. I was more conscious of my
self-identity and who I was than I had before now.
I have made amends with my father a long time
ago. Acknowledging his dreams for me was important at this stage of our lives.
He is 80 years young and I am 55 years older. I know now that if he had no
believe in me I would not have come this far. He was always there for me even
without expressing it loudly.
He was a hard man with no regrets for being
what he was. He was a man of his time. He had no formal western education, but
had the knowledge to drive a car, and dream about the future of his children.
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| Second son Daniel Holonga explains the flute |
He did not have the education to make critical
connections between negative behavior and the subsequent negative consequences.
All he knew and held onto was that one day I will become a lawyer. Even if I
had not followed that dream, he accepted my decision to study literature and
become a writer and scholar.
If he knew the word “academic” he would have
celebrated the moment I made a decision to be one. I think he accepted my
decision at that time because he did not even understand or comprehend what I
would do with a degree in Literature. I wouldn’t blame him.
Not as a last word, but thinking of my father
now, makes me appreciate the commitment he had to the Second Bishop of New
Guinea paid off as blessings for his children. Three of his sons have
university bachelor’s degrees, his third son has a military background and
graduated from the Institute of Public Administration, and works as security
personnel in the Pogera mine. His second born son, Daniel, is in the village
with him, learning everything about family, history, culture, land, and nature.
His two daughters are also in the village. Fourth born Margaret is a
school-teacher in Wewak. His second youngest daughter, Janet, is happy just
looking after him. His fifth born son, Paul is heading the Immigration Office
in Mount Hagen, and the lastborn son, Kennedy is with the Investment Promotion
Authority in Port Moresby.
I bring him to Port Moresby from time to time
to give him a break from the village life. In this reflection I acknowledge the
sacrifices he has made for all his children. Even if he did not get any direct
blessings from the Bishop the blessings came to the children and the
grandchildren, and great grand children. Truly a blessing to have a Father like
him!
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| Gregory Holonga with Grandson Francis Finguma Holonga at Nagum River Bridge |
All he had was the knowledge to do something
different like driving a car, running a business (unsuccessful always), and
making gardens or planting cacao trees. He had the knowledge of our people in
his life. He has a lot of knowledge that he has acquired from his elders who
are no longer around.
Note: An excerpt from a forthcoming memoir by the author.
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