Tick Tock Ticking

Old writings from my hard drives, I was trying to imagine a scene for a film. There was a clock in the corner ticking away the timing of a robbery operation taking place down in Waigani. But as it happens the story was being told by the clock and would end not with the heist itself but with the clock becoming the observer, witness and the actual narrator of the story... because it keeps drawing people back to the scene of the crime while counting down to a day of reckoning and finally becoming the stress factor that brings about the conclusion...

Tick Tock Ticking:

It may sound very funny
but one day you'll be running
and you will turn to see
that once you were a story
this Tik Tok really ticks

You try to be convincing
when stood before the judges
articulate your version
your lawyers have a flair
but time will make you stop

The rules are always bent
and justice serves the rich
money frees corruption
the law is bought and sold
and poorest do the time

Our house is in a mess
rains fall through the thatch
the cats have grown too fat
so rats are hard to catch
we try to last the season

So overcome with fear
we fail to see and reason
so hopeful for reward
we stand for this injustice
our minds can hear the silence

They cruise our nation calmly
in steaming hot Waigani
their cars have air condition
and windows bullet proofed
they fear no ammunition

If you have so much power
why then must countless suffer?
we don't want all your money
you've promised that to others
Why don't you spare the lies?

You print your propaganda
to tell us of your worth
but think about your powers
how money gives them colour
yet time will bleach you bare

Once in that position
you start to scheme you scum
that chair is not your own
the people put you there
and they can throw you out

Tik Tok Ticking
your fear will fake some rhythm
you'll die without a drama
no twenty one gun salute
you failed to live with us

Martin Maden 1995


Goroka, the 16th of March 1995

A Death Penalty

Here's a poem I wrote a long time ago, in Goroka - somewhere after the death penalty was introduced in PNG. 


I guess it's not really a poem, just a thought about what we were going through as a country and the decisions we were making then - and now too. 


I'm quite fascinated with all kinds of organisations and how close or how far away they are from the human heart, soul and spirit. That's for me one of the questions about what makes an organisation such as a country move - the spirit of organisation or its instruments, or both or none of them.


This came into question for me especially because we made a law that allowed us to take human life - which touches on many dimensions where we begin to question our moral values. And I was thinking that maybe the country had developed a certain mood - 20 years after independence I thought wow, we are finally united about one thing. We collectively feel a mood of anger about the state of crime and lawlessness and we have decided to choose an instrument to deal with our matter of concern - a deadly instrument.


This was the death penalty so obviously it was not an ordinary kind of legal decision. It was a decision to commit collective murder.


I'm not one of those people who believe that human goodness and morals should be regulated by law and at the same time I believe that we are not a cult which has to be ruled by any religious law. That would not be prudent because not many Christian denominations can agree to come to a common understanding about many parts of their holy book.


Although our constitution says that we are a Christian country, we are also a secular state, in that no affair of the state is regulated by the ruling of any single one of our many church denominations. That would be just too chaotic and unnecessary. Specific church belief and moral teachings belong inside each congregation and everyone agrees that religious beliefs should not be imposed outside of a particular congregation so that it would bear upon the dignity and rights of other people from other congregations and other belief systems. 


By that same argument, as a culturally diverse country, none of us expects that our national affairs be run using the systems of only one tribal culture but rather by a neutral system of laws that we can all find appropriate and fair to people of all cultures and creeds.


Anyway that is the background to this "poem". Happy reading.

A Death Penalty

They sat under the shade

Of a meeting mango tree

The magistrate and a councillor

And the mother of the house

She rattled with her cooking

The pastor was her husband

And formal with their guests

The day was to be long

Their voices grave in tone

The law had long been passed

Death was legal and proper

To punish crimes to a degree

The councillor faced the magistrate

This concept is a crime

How would you so determine

A crime to be so bad

That one must die for it

Good councillor my friend

I cannot be exact

I myself feel convicted

That I must pass a judgement

To take a human life

Even from a criminal

The law abiding pastor

He spoke of these two questions

Who would kill the sentenced

And how would that be done

But pastor said the councillor

Do you accept this law

No councillor good friend

You know of course I don't

I too must live with it

But I was only asking

The three relaxed to eat

And she spoke then quite clear

You three important men

Custodians of the peace

Leaders of the thought procession

People behind you who scream

They would not wear your sandals

But look at how they shout

Expatriates, businessmen and politicians

The elite the cream of society

Your other frightened people

Who understand no modern laws

They live each day supressed

Not knowing how to move

Your justice frightens them

With tearful eye she left

There sat the men alone

Their voices rose again

Dilemma persisted

Who was to execute

What would a method be

They contradicted much

Of words they'd said before

But some of what they thought

Had life and left their tongues

A man must do the killing

It fits in with his roles

A woman fits the role

She represents the conscience

Maybe an expatriate

They run the country too

A criminal should execute

They handle blood much better

A tribal fighter too

Would do a job well done

Politicians and hypocrites

They too deserve to hang

Bureaucrats perhaps

They work without their souls

The list went on and on

They thought they had to stop

And search for ways of killing

With shudders they proceeded

They made a gruesome list

Each item was explored

Criterion Accorded

Pointed with et cetera

And contradictions too

The ideal execution

Was one that ended quick

Or had public support

Public participation

Where we all shared the blood

Our unborn children too

And we were satisfied

That justice had been done

And criminals learnt their lesson

Perhaps a cult or caste

Could do the dirty job

Without identity

An execution mask

A new tradition mask

Said a passing bloke

Eavesdropping to the beach

They slept that night without

Much peace from all their talk

And sunlight speared them wake

To walk back to the log

Under the mango tree

That still provided shade

Reminiscent moods

Came clouding present thought

The three old man sat silent

Before their talks began

A gloomy rifting silence

Sobbered by the night

Separated by concerns

Their betel nuts were slow

To melt their frozen tongues

Their minds just sought recluse

To gather and be strong

The pastor cleared his throat

We did not make the law

Ourselves are not to blame

That's true the council said

We help to keep the law

But laws are changing now

The magistrate conceded

We must keep with the change

The law frustrates me too

Gets difficult to rule

To tell where justice lies

You know that past traditions

Knew justice clearly too

We're ruling for two cultures

The old ones and the new

Please bear that in your mind

I justify no crime

But striving to be fair

To understand all sides

Is difficult enough

And then I stand alone

Sending killers to their graves

I would be killer too

A murderer if you like

And you too are the same

You would condone me too

Criminals kill for sure

But you and I let's think

Is it the same for us

To plan a person's death

To sit under this tree

Premeditate and contemplate

Entertain visions of their blood

You would agree with me

That when we choose to kill

Eradicate to settle crime 

Achieve justice by a death penalty

Society would have changed

These unkind brutal measures

Will they solve our problems

And will the crime rate drop

That's not a proven fact

Martin Maden 1995

Little Birds of Paradise