Talitha’s Story

On the eve of my 30th birthday, I lost my sister Talitha in a tragic road accident, she was only 26. Like my other siblings, it was hard to digest, even more; I received news a day after the accident as I was in Panguna, and could only access Digicel by standing only at certain locations. This made it more shocking when I received condolence messages before I could confirm my sister's passing. My little family managed to make it in time before her burial at our Father's village in Rempi. This is Talitha's story from a brother's reflection.

Talitha was born on the 12^th of February 1992 at the Port Moresby General Hospital. At the time, we lived at the Ranu Flats in 4 Mile. I was only 4 years old, but can vividly recollect the time as she was the sibling after me and the first sister for the brother pair. We had no babysitter hence we had to stay with Mum's younger brother Uncle David, while Dad drove Mum down to the hospital in our little Toyota Starlet. It was an exciting time because finally we were having a sister. Mum and Dad wanted a daughter after me, so to me, Talitha was the answer to their wish. 

 

                          3 year old Tali

Talitha was a revelation of a new experience in our home. Needless to mention the attention had diverted from me to her, she had by nature a knack to draw attention wherever we go. For myself and big bro, it was sort of an embarrassment as we try to ignore the fact that she could steal attention at the whips of her innocence when trying to be part of the group. She liked dancing, dressing up, singing, and often would try to ruin (as we would put it) our games with her demands. Her favourite traditional dance was the Madang’s ‘Kanai’, and she would wear Mum’s Mekeo grass skirt and arm bands with Dads ‘kangal’ on the head. And she’d be dancing like a Hiri Motu Queen on a Lakatoi. Nevertheless, she was always part of the group no matter how much protest we (Manzo and myself) put up.

Dancing to the kundu

In her attire ready to dance

Fr. John Ryan, who recited the final prayer at Talitha's burial; administered her baptism when she was a few months old at St Peter Channel Erima Parish, Port Moresby.   

School became the new compulsory for us as both brothers began in 1994 and 1995 respectively. After our aunties left, Mum and Dad had to find someone to mind Tali. They settled for Manzo's babysitter Leleso, whom we often refer to as Bubu Goroka. Talitha took an instant liking to Bubu Goroka, she would often frisk through her bilum every morning to find at least a biscuit or her favourite umbrella candy, she would often throw a tantrum when she did not find any. 

Holidays would find us waking up late to watch Malolo Club on EMTV, and waiting for 3pm Kids Kona in the afternoon. During the day, Mum's pots and pans would receive abuse as the whole Matbob house will fall under the might of the trio rock band. Off course Tali would be the star of all our performances often at the disapproval of Bubu Goroka. Our favourite song was Smokie's ‘Living next door to Alice’. The pots and pans would ultimately get their revenge when authority arrives after 5pm. And no matter how much pretense we put up with our behaviour, Bubu Goroka always gets the last laugh with the behavioral report on the wannabe rock band. Mum’s wooden spoon, which would later become useful for serving nangu had its use back then as the long arm of the law. Certainly our backsides understood.  

Between years 1996 and 1999 came Ceolina (Chay) (1996), Thelma (1998) and Elizabeth (1999). We were now a big family and Talitha adopted the big sister role very early. Talitha began her education in 1999 at St Therese Badili, by then I was in grade 4 and Manzo in grade 5.

Tali and Balbina with friends (from left and right). Balbina would perish in the Rabaul Queen sinking in 2012

I remember well her first day at school was a blast, she would never stop talking about her teacher and the class and basically everything that she came across. Off course, we had to pay her visits during recess but when she made friends it was over for me and Manzo (thank goodness!). Life in Port Moresby was one that had all its privileges with Sunday trips to Sogeri and if Mum or Dad felt we deserved it, we’d drop by Big Rooster. Dad’s car stereo usually plays only our favourites like Styx’s ‘Show me the way’, Procol Harum’s ‘Whiter shade of pale’, Matchbox 20’s entire first album, Michael Jackson, MLTR and all those songs which I still play on my touch phone reminiscing on those memories.  

The following year the family moved to Madang so Dad could study at the new university of Divine Word. While Dad lived on campus, we stayed at his village in Rempi and attended St Boniface Primary school. Talitha took a liking to the life in the village as the sea was the attraction. She would find every opportunity to take a dip. It was not long before Dad found accommodation at Lake Lodge in DWU and we had to move into town in June of year 2000.

A big part of our lives was spent inside the university campus. The students and staff we came to know, we watched the development of the university from a dirt road limited infrastructure campus to a high-tech concrete paved institution it is now. All the more, the development of our spiritual lives was shaped and influenced by our parents and our surrounding community on campus. We attended Holy Spirit Primary School with most of our neighbours’ children, and had Sunday and Wednesday masses at the DWU Chapel. Uncle Andrew Porata, Uncle Max and late Br Hugo Audrey were the guys who never missed a school day dropping us off in the mornings and picking us up in the afternoons. The school bus privilege was a blessing because we came to know every kid on campus. What’s more important was that bond developed by the children, there was no demarcation between ancillary, academic or administration staff. We all were just kids anyway! Talitha’s first friends remained her closest until her passing. Francesco, Zeena and Claire. This was something I learnt from her, her ability to maintain friendship and build it was something I take reference from. Talitha received her first Holy Communion and Confirmation at the DWU Chapel.

Talitha's first Holy Communion

In 2002, when Tali was in grade 3; her classmate Michael Wandakun was hit by a speeding vehicle whilst waiting to cross the road. The drunk driver had veered off the road at high speed and hit Michael killing him instantly. The school paid respects to young Michael, myself and Talitha attended his haus krai at the compound behind the fire station. We both walked home as she shared memories of her classmate. A similar fate would be experienced by late Michael's sister, her baby and two others earlier in 2018 not far from the spot Michael was hit 18 years ago.

 Upon completion of her primary education, Talitha was accepted at Tusbab Secondary in 2008. Her favourite teachers were Mr and Mrs Aru, Mr Haru, Mr Semming, Mr Daun and basically the staff of Tusbab Secondary. She would tell me about my former teachers and how they treat her because she is Nathan’s sister (roll eyeballs). Her maturity into talking about social and political issues stemmed well before she entered high school. She would complain about the crime rate in the province and try to reason why is this so. I often listen attentively without saying anything. Her social skills enabled her to have friends in people we’d least expect her to be friends with, she had the knack of making friends. Whatever she disagreed on or was disgusted off, she’d come back home and share it. Talitha was not the kind who’d hold back anything that worried or queried her. 

She continued her matriculation and did business studies as her option 3 course. Talitha was a hard worker in spite of her slowness, a real workhorse who could sit up late drinking granola coffee to finish exercises and assignments. That, I learnt from her! After completing grade 12, she got accepted to do Business Studies at the Madang Technical College (Mateco). Talitha decided to be a boarding student that year, but forfeited her accommodation to a friend from Bougainville named Monica. Monica has become a close friend to me and Theonila when we moved to Arawa in 2014.

Chay, Beth, Tali and Nema (2018)

 Talitha graduated with a Diploma and applied to do Business Studies at DWU, she was admitted in 2013 and did only year 2. She was employed in the accounts section at Madang Butchery in 2014. In early 2017, Talitha was offered a position at the Catholic Archdiocese of Madang under the Education Division.

One year and 4 months into her work at Headquarters Talitha had settled well into her job and had gained good experience and confidence in her work. Our little girl had assumed the role as big brother/sister to her siblings when Almanzo and I left home. Much to her sisters' expectations she was a real spoiler and would get anything for them. She had, moments before her passing posted on Facebook a picture of Puss in Boots in his cute face with a caption "My sister when she needs something from me". Her sisters in reply requested their favourite treats. 

Her sisters' wait that afternoon was a long and unusual one, she would normally walk through the front gate by 5:30pm. That never happened, as the minutes turn to an hour, a friend came running to the house saying that Talitha was hit by a bus. Dad left for the hospital moments later after a security guard informed him to go up to the hospital. News had spread fast, friends started calling, those in Madang rushed up to the hospital. By night, the sisters received the dreadful news.

Stories surrounding the actual accident were many, but Talitha was standing at the usual spot where she waited for a bus every afternoon. And that was the last place she stood. For the numerous times in those many years we both walked past that bus stop, it is difficult for me to ever think it would end for one of us at that spot, even I had close calls with rouge PMV drivers there. The manner which she left, it is hard to digest why it would end like this.

    

Mum, who is employed at the Modilon General Hospital Administration, had been working until her usual time to leave office. As she passed the Emergency Ward on her way to the office, a boy came running to her saying "Anti, wanpla man kar bumpim em na emi slip stap lo emergency (Aunty, someone was hit by a car and is laying in the emergency ward)" Mum, not knowing it was her daughter replied "Aiyo sori tru (Oh that is so sad)". As she neared the office, Chay called her phone saying Talitha was hit by a bus. That moment Mum knew it was her daughter in the emergency. As she made her way down the hospital cleaning staff came running to her saying "Wanpla girl luk olsem yu em slip stap long emergency (A girl who looks like you is in the emergency ward)". The dreadful reality hit Mum before she entered the ward. As she rushed into the room, she found her lifeless daughter laying on the bed.   

A part of me died that fateful afternoon. Though I was more than a thousand kilometres away in the mountains of Panguna, it struck me as a vision I was walking towards the house after training. I saw exactly as how it was described to me later on. I pushed it out of my mind when I thought how silly it was to see such a vision on a beautiful afternoon. I never realized it was happening at that moment! My heart bleeds just thinking of it.

It was the first news waking up on my birthday the next day, and while traveling to Arawa to at least get a proper confirmation, I began receiving condolence messages. It was heart-wrenching. Dumbfounded as I was, and not knowing how to respond or to even believe what had just happened; I kept wiping the tears behind my sun glasses as I walked up section 17 to wait for confirmation of my travel. Theonila and Mario joined me in the afternoon with a packed suitcase. By then, support from our friends and family began pouring in. My best friend and brother Albert paid my way to Madang without hesitation. My wife’s family supported us financially and our trip to Madang was arranged by Dad on the day. However, due to flight scheduling between Buka and Madang, we had to spend a night in Port Moresby. 

We did make it though, but only after her funeral service. As we tried to make way towards the convoy, I was thinking probably three or four vehicles. But it was a sight! More than thirty (30) fully loaded vehicles with police escort had proceeded halfway towards Rempi when we caught up with them at Siar. I was astounded at the amount of support given to my parents and siblings at our lowest time, something I am ever indebted to all who gave without hesitation.     

As I sat down to write up this piece I kept thinking of the times Talitha would knock on my room door at our DWU home to remind me of something or call me for dinner or just checking on me. I get teary when I remember she called me earlier in 2018 telling me of her plans to start off a business and get a block of land and many other things. Her troubles and worries she would share with me; I took them all with heart but never had I realized those would be her memories now. Our communication had increased in 2018 as she’d be asking for advice or just checking up on Mario.  Just three days before she passed away, I called Mum from Arawa letting them know that we were moving to the village. We had a good long chat. Talitha was making fun of everyone with her camera phone taking pictures when they were not looking. As I concluded the call she was the last person to say “Bye big bro, love you!” And that was the last time I heard her voice. She usually says ‘talk later’ or ‘catch!’ I held that thought in the back of my mind as I traveled back to Panguna the next day. The preceding days went by as normal, we were conducting a financial literacy training that week when the news came. 

Talitha left a day after Theonila’s birthday, a day before mine and five days before Mario’s first. September will never be the same for us. Still, I have not gone over the fact we are one less sibling, hence every time I come back to remember she is physically not around, I get teary. A very good friend and Dad’s former student Eva Kuson posted on my facebook wall a day after the tragedy “…your wishes are obvious; you’d want your sister back”. As if she had read my mind, my only wish on that morning was to have her back.  

Tali's final night at home. PC Manzo Matbob (including those below)

Procession to DWU Chapel

At Rempi Village

Final blessings from Fr Pat and then Fr John

 

Talitha's resting place

A month after her passing, she appeared in my sleep. It was the first time since her passing that she appeared. I knew I was asleep. As we walked around the places we grew up and played in, Talitha never said a word. She was only smiling. I woke up wiping tears as Mario came calling Papa and started doing the usual of poking my face. 

As Mum would sadly say; ‘the nest is getting empty’. Referring to the Matbob family home as her kids are moving on one by one. The thing is, five birdies will fly back from time to time. One will not.

 I guess this is the only space I get to share my thoughts about someone whom we share a Mum and Dad. I recall every memory and day dream sometimes if she would still be around 10 years from now, where would she be. Mario will only know her little Mum through pictures and videos. Talitha loved Mario so much! I am glad to have been a part of her 26 years of life. I am proud of her achievements and certainly treasure every memory of her life. Talitha I miss you and certainly you are in Heaven with God looking down at us every day.

Talitha joins a choir of souls who have gone before us in the fateful year of 2018, and it would be just to remember them as well. Charlie Gabuogi, Luisa Henry, Jaqueline Naing, Raymond Baria, Pori Matbob and all our family and friends who have lost a loved one in that year; we remember them all. Rest in Peace my Taliweo. 

SUMMARY REVIEW OF EDWARD SAID’S ORIENTALISM

Orientalism, or as put by Said; the difference between east and west; is a tri chapter work of what Edward Said concludes, should not have been done in the first place regarding the classification of peoples between the so called civilised west to the uncivilised east. This has greatly contributed to the bias and propaganda that still exists to this day.  
 

In the first chapter, he writes how the world was divided between the east and west. The orients were regarded as sub-human, uncivilised, incapable of running their own affairs, hence needed the intervention of the civilised west. And because they (orients) were incapable, the west could, without their knowledge, represent them. Everything was studied and interpreted according to the interpretation of the west. European generally defined themselves by defining the orient.

The second chapter writes the orients’ land and behavior being highly romanticized as the east being exotic and pure. It was in the easts’ purity that defined their inferiority to the west, particularly Europeans.   Europeans were biologically superior.

In the third chapter, the quest for geographical knowledge of the world gave fuel or prominence to the basis of orientalism. There was this comparison between the early orients and the new orients who were more involved or had a more ‘hands on’ approach in the study of the uncivilised east. The reason behind such an approach was not to understand the orient, but to know how to rule over them.

The roots of generalisations and prejudice on certain race and religions have been fueled by this very concept. The religion of Islam has suffered greatly the most from this contemptuous ideology. 

And western prejudice against the eastern countries continues to fuel propaganda even on mainstream (media, education, politics, economics, etc.). Said’s insight is a revelation of what is normally downplayed to conspiracy theory. Disciplines like anthropology and sociology need to tread carefully when it comes to study of people and societies outside Europe.  

Review of Smith's 'Decolonising Methodologies'

Smith has articulated one of the most impressive and informative writings I have ever come across. Research, as her book articulates, “it stirs up silence, it conjures up bad memories, it raises a smile that is knowing and distrustful.” The relevance resounds arguably in many ‘indigenous’ communities as they cannot but agree with subconscious contempt. Having imperialism as the driving force that has and continues to enable research to infiltrate and to an extent ‘colonise’ indigenous groups throughout the world, implies only of the West’s arrogance towards structures and systems that have been established and practiced for thousands of years by indigenous peoples throughout the world.

For Bougainville, research is a well-known term in many communities, villages, hamlets, etc. And as a region coming out of two big waves of colonization and then the bloody 10-year civil war, the region has seen much outside influence as much from within their own. Conceptions of outside influence are much treated with contempt and also debated as solutions to problems within. It is a no brainer to point out the issue of mining as one contentious example, with indigenous communities being continually talked down to about knowing what is best for them without understanding or even inquiring into what they want or need. 

Going back to the intention of Smith’s writing, research in this aspect tends to overlook the subtle nuances that can interpret a peoples understanding. And at many instances, interpretations are taken from a point of view not representative of the people concerned, hence misrepresentation becomes the representative of the concerned people.

In indigenous research, an important element is to allow for the researched or participants to partake in the research itself, as articulated in the twenty-five indigenous projects, “the survival of peoples, cultures and languages; the struggle to become self-determining, the need to take back control of our destinies.” This allows for accurate collection of data, even better takes out elements of distrust and contempt as the people and their beliefs, stories, legends, and their cultures are given the space express or articulate themselves.       

Theonila's story

Nilla, comes from the heartland of Panguna in the Autonomous Region of Bougainville. This cheerful character is always seen with an affectionate smile that makes her a likable person to anyone she meets. However, this has never been the case in this young woman’s past, as she reflects upon her upbringing through the struggles of 10 year war and the horrendous execution of her “redskin” father at the hands of opportunistic BRA soldiers; she recalls the struggles she and her family went through and how she never gave up her dreams to make it make it to through education. This is the story of Theonila.

Theonila was born on the 4^th of September 1990 to a family of five, she was the last. At that time the crisis was at its peak.  Little did she know of a normal life, as everyday was filled with drama of seeing and hearing gunfire, blood and gore from casualties’ battle wounds, and the continual fear of what the next day would hold for the family, this was the life she became accustom to.

The family’s hopes were one day turned to rubble on that dreadful day their father’s life was taken. Nilla was only three years old but could remember well what had happened. John Roka, Theonila’s father had just come back from burying his brothers in West New Britain. The family were shocked to see him come back, but were happy that daddy had come home to be with them. The next morning, with his daughter in his arms, dad sang to Theonila as he carried her around the house, “♫Come back to me, with all your heart, don’t let fear keep us apart, trees do bend, though straight and tall. So must we to others call, long have I waited for your coming home to me and living deeply a new life ♫”. As her dad continued singing, he was interrupted by the arrival of 20 heavily armed men who claimed to have been ordered by the BRA hierarchy to take Mr. Roka in for questioning.

Theonila remembers vividly how she was harshly pulled out of her father’s arms by one of the BRA men and thrown on the ground. As she cried out of confusion of what was happening, her father was rudely scurried away by the angry men. Theonila’s mother Trish followed after as she was aware of the intent of those men.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Roka spent the whole day waiting for the interrogation, but it never eventuated. Instead, the 20 men, who now became more aggressive, started beating Mr. Roka with the butt of the guns they each held. Theonila’s mother tried to cover her husband to protect him from the beating; as a result she also took a beating from the angry men, who now did not care who their weapon landed on. She was cursed and taunted by verbal insults from the angry men as she was beaten. As both husband and wife became weak from the continuous beating, Mr. Roka turned to his wife and asked her “Sapos ol kilim yumi tupla, husait bai lukautim ol pikinini blong yumi? If they kill the both of us, who will take care of our children?” at that she let go. These were the last words she ever heard from her husband.

Mr. Roka, though badly wounded stood up to face his killers, as he made the sign of the cross (John Roka was a devoted Catholic), the first bullet was fired. It missed him completely; when he completed the sign of the cross the second bullet was fired. The bullet landed right between his eyes, he died instantly.

The men did not have any intention to burry Mr. Roka’s body as his lifeless body lay on the bloodied loan for the whole afternoon. It was almost dusk when nearby locals dragged his body to a dug shallow hole a few metres away. John Roka was killed on the 18^th of March 1993.

Mrs. Roka, seeing her soul mate’s life being taken away in a horrific manner, did not have the strength to stand up and walk. She could not cry either because she was in a state of complete shock. She could not remember how she made her way back home. But she managed somehow. Her husband’s murder still is as fresh as the day it happened whenever she recalls.

Life for the Roka’s took a turn for the worse as the family’s only breadwinner had been ruthlessly murdered. Their mother, though with the pain of losing the only love of her life, took the role of both mother and father. She got heavily involved in politics as a result; at times she would not come home for long periods of time. She had that fire in her to bring an end to the crisis that brought so much destruction on people’s lives. Her job also meant that the family had some income as she now was the sole breadwinner of the family.

One thing that Theonila is always appreciative of her mother was her un-wilting desire for all her children to be educated. From this, she had to risk all to find avenues to get her children to school; the Roka’s left the BRA’s keep in the mountains of Panguna and headed down into the so called “Care Centre” at Arawa, established by the brutal and abusive Papua New Guinea Defense Force. To Theonila and her older siblings, it was another life of fear and apprehension, as they did not know when they may become victim to the PNG soldiers.

Killings and young men and boys going missing were a normal thing at the centre, Nilla recalls the warnings her mother would tell all her children. As much as possible be obscure, or not to make themselves become a target, or not to give away information that may risk other people’s lives. And as if this made them any safer, Theonila vividly remembers soldiers would lure her and her friends into their armored cars and take them for a ride around Arawa. For Nilla, this was the only times she ever had a chance of being inside a moving vehicle. The soldiers would offer chocolates in reward for questions they would ask about particular persons, or where Nilla’s mother had gone to.

Nilla, remembering her mother’s advice, always kept her mouth shut whenever she was asked by the soldiers. She later came to realize that these soldiers were using the children to gather intelligence on the BRA.   

Those times when their mother would go out, big brothers Leonard and Justin would be responsible for the household. They were the whole world to Nilla. Leonard, who was always quiet and reserved, was the leader in the family. Justin on the other hand was Leonard’s right hand man. Despite their young age both boys ran the affairs of the house with commitment and diligence. Theonila always loved to follow her brothers; wherever they go she would cry after them because usually she was always alone whenever both brothers go out.

Going to school was a gamble between life and death, as children in schools would often get caught in cross fires between the BRA and the PNGDF. It was a daily routine for children, who would risk their lives for an education. Theonila remembers that every week would not go by without a shootout. In some instances, her whole class would end up sleeping by the shops in Arawa town to wait out a gun fight. Sometimes she would go home late at night; however this was life for Theonila and her family (this was how she put it).

Nevertheless, Theonila’s road to education was met with other challenges apart from the crisis. Since she was the last in the family, there was not much consideration for her to be educated because their mother had to pay school fees and other expenses for the elder siblings. This was a letdown for Theonila personally, as she aspired to be a teacher one day. But because mother could not afford for all, she (Nilla) was seen as a liability, hence she would often be told that she belonged in the village. It was hurtful for Theonila, but she always kept it because she would not want to see her mother being hurt or angry by her protests. Despite all that, she always loved and respected her family. She says she is thankful that all these had happened to her for it would make her a better person in life. And she holds no ill sentiment towards the treatment she received back then.

However, Theonila never gave up then, in the effort to win her mother’s heart; she would get up very early every morning to collect fresh oranges to sell at the morning market. This was to supplement her school money and also at least make some money for the family. At that young age, Theonila recalls, that was the only thing she could do to help. The thought of that always brings tears to her eyes.

Theonila’s journey through education would not have been possible through the intervention and help from her mother’s uncle and late former President Joseph Kabui and Uncle Tony Tapakau. Both were Theonila’s sponsor and mentors right throughout her primary, high and secondary education. Theonila says she owes so much to these two great men who gave her hope when she had no one to turn to.

On the contrary, Theonila had developed a reckless ‘don’t care’ behavior as she grew up. This led to her being involved in drinking alcohol and smoking. She had a very bad temper and would resort to rowdy and unfriendly behavior. This led her to committing an offense that should have ended her education. She set fire to the classroom of her school. Luckily, students responded quickly and the fire was put out before the entire classroom was burnt. She ran away from school then, never wanting to go back.

Again, through the encouragement of her mother’s late uncle Kabui, she re-enrolled and continued her secondary education. Nilla keeps to this day the letter which late Kabui wrote to the school to allow Theonila back. This was a major turning point for her.

Throughout her schooling, Theonila mentioned that her family had never attended or witnessed any of her graduations or school events. She graduated from primary school, high school and secondary all by herself, no witnesses or anyone of her family would come to see her. She describes that it was one of the big contributors as to how she developed that reckless ‘don’t care’ attitude. But then again, she remains thankful it happened to her.

As Theonila finished grade 12, she filled out her application for Divine Word University’s Social and Religious Studies. With much anticipation and high hopes from her classmates, who were now shocked that the rebellious and stupid girl in the class had finished with flying colors from Bishop Wade Secondary, would make it to university.

Receiving an acceptance letter for university studies came as a breakthrough for her, it was a complete shock for her family. As they did not have any confidence she would make it to university. Her departure to Madang was as usual; unceremonious and without any support.

Theonila Roka arrived at the university gates without any luggage, no change except the clothes on her back, a copra sling bag at her side with her mobile phone and save card inside. She was three weeks late into semester one. Away from her family, and completely alone this time, Nilla had to cope with the new culture she now found herself in. Fortunately for her, she had her elder sister’s friends who gave her good company. While in first year, she also met a special friend from Germany named Angela, who she treasures dearly as she always had time for her. Needless to say, the first year at university was a challenging time for Theonila, but, hardened by her past, she did not shun the opportunity to learn.

      

The second year followed with so many promises, this is where the author of this article comes into her life. She would always make reference to the first time she saw him, and it was in her first year, during the Inaugural HIV Debate between tertiary institutions all over the country. He was in the University of Papua New Guinea team, and was debating against DWU. That was that. She can only talk of the ridiculous smile of this debater that she thought she’d never be able to see again. Anyway, fast forward into 2011, Theonila asks out Nathan on a Sunday night on the 4^th of April, and he says “okay”. The rest is history.

Theonila on Graduation Day at Divine Word University

Upon her final year of studies at DWU, Theonila’s major research paper was on the leadership hindrances and challenges in Bougainville. Her research earned her a distinction and high recognition from her own family, who have now come to realize that their daughter, sister, cousin, niece and aunt has come out on top and is the first in the family to achieve a university qualification. 

Theonila says she will not stop there, as education for her people is her priority, she aims to continue to further her education and go back to Bougainville to help establish a university for the region. She has already started a school back in her village called “John Roka Memorial Home Care” named after her beloved late father.  Her utmost interest is pursuing a career in politics. And she hopes to become the first female president of the Republic of Bougainville one day.