I am reflecting back on my life’s journey and this would cost me to be free in writing.
I was born in 1993 when my mother was having a really hard time with my father.
Those conflicts erupted into a cloud of separation at the start of ethnic tension and because of the fear of being half-Malaitans, we were forced to flee to Temotu province alone without our mother.
In Santa Cruz, we were left in the care of our grandmother-who already cared for my aunt’s children. I grew up trying hard to be a good boy in a cruel world.
There, a must-be crazy uncle of mine always punished us harshly without sensible reasons but with inhumane techniques.
During those punishment sessions we were forced to talk (explaining the things we did not do) if we desired not to be whipped.
But when the first word came out of our mouth it might have driven his hand to give a blow of a whip onto any part of our body.
We cried out our spirit while hearing him shout, “stop talking! No one forces you to talk”.
So, we immediately swallowed our tears with its sounds of pain and anguish.
Again, he whipped us screaming, “talk! Who forces you to be quiet?”.
Again, and again this continued until the four-by-two size stick was broken into paper-like bits.
This sounds unbelievable but it’s true. All the villagers thought he was deeply insane. They said he needed to find a woman to become his wife and settle down on their own rather than being dependent on my grandmother. I think he capitalized our disadvantage so he was not to blame.
After the ethnic tension died down, me and one of my two elder sisters boarded the new M.V TEMOTU travelling to Honiara where I have spent most of my life.
There in Honiara I had gone through everything everyone doesn’t like to go through but I managed to climb up through the fire until I reached SINU.
During SINU graduation in 2017, I listened to a speech given by the then Governor General, Sir Frank Kabui. One thing I always remember is “it is just the beginning”. We were celebrating being like overcomers of hard and challenging difficulties while he was saying we were actually welcoming a new path in life-the working journey of corruption.
I first recalled this truth when I was at Leona Community High School in North Vella Lavella, Western Province.
Our school principal showed us an invoice of the school grant and while we were thinking he said, “The leftovers are for my drink”.
However, on the bright side we could see completely the evident appearances of all the tools, assets and liabilities including two handsome staff houses standing out proudly. Hence the school environment was brightened up by the beautiful smiles of our warm hearts.
In 2018, my salary was on hold probably to feed corruption-I wonder where my money has gone.
Now I am here sitting and thinking of the smallest corruption I myself could be and what pops up in my mind right now is when I told a colleague of mine that I had taken her bible on top of her table believing that she would allow me the bible if she was around. If she says now that I should ask her next time then I must or else if she is not around then I will go back to my house to read from mine.
Remember, “I am trying to express myself from the bad I was.”
Hezekiah R. Wane