SPOKEN LIVES: Kaukau dreams and rice days

By Wilson Turkai*, as told to Fred Lubang

PORT MORESBY, Papua New Guinea (MindaNews / 25 May) —  In the 1980s, rice was a luxury in East New Britain, Papua New Guinea. Kaukau (sweet potatoes) was our daily meal, mostly boiled. 

Rice? That was for special days. For a long time, we were told rice couldn’t grow here. That’s what some people said. Our soil wasn’t right, they said. So we imported it.

Then some Filipinos came. They were with a group who were into vocational training. They just started planting. And before long—green shoots, golden fields. Rice could grow here after all. It just needed someone who believed it could.

We didn’t always eat it, but we knew when someone was cooking it. Rice and sugar were packed in brown paper bags—the kind that could trap a bit of air. We kids would smack on it or step on it just right, and pop!—a loud, satisfying sound would burst out. That popping sound became our clue. We’d grin at each other and whisper, “Eh, ol bai kaikai rais long dispela nait!” (Eh, they’re having rice tonight!) It was a sound of envy. A sound of celebration. A spoonful of sugar on boiled kaukau was a treat. A scoop of rice with a bit of sugar? A feast.

One day, while cleaning the government vehicle that I drive, you told me something that made me laugh. In the Philippines, they call reckless drivers kamote drivers. I raised my eyebrows and asked, “Why blame the kaukau?” We both laughed. Back home, kaukau is the food that keeps us going—it fills the belly and gives strength. The idea that it’s an insult somewhere else? Strange and funny. Same root, different meaning.

It’s funny how you can smell memory, isn’t it? For me, it’s the scent of newly cooked kaukau and rice, the sound of that brown bag, and the quiet revolution that started when someone showed us what was always possible.

xxx

* Wilson Turkai is a quiet man from East New Britain, Papua New Guinea. He works as a driver for one of the country’s government agencies, navigating roads with the same steady patience he brings to conversation. He doesn’t say much at first—but over time, and many shared journeys, his stories begin to flow. Memories of his youth, reflections on change, and quiet observations about life all come through, not loudly, but with the kind of clarity that stays with you. It is in the quiet moments—on long drives, under trees, beside roadside markets or between grocery shelves—that Wilson’s voice carries the weight of lived history. This year 2025 marks the 50^th Anniversary of PNG’s Independence. 

(Fred Lubang, a listener from Surigao del Sur, gathers stories told to him in quiet corners, walks, over shared meals, and spends time in many communities. In this space, he shares the voices of others—memories, laughter, lessons— as they were told to him, across islands and generations. Fred is a PhD candidate at the Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies, in partnership with Paññāsāstra University of Cambodia, where he is developing a decoloniality framework for humanitarian disarmament. In 2022, Fred was awarded the Sean MacBride Peace Prize in recognition of his “unwavering work and commitment toward peace, disarmament, common security, and nonviolence. He is now in Papua New Guinea for a short visit).