Friday, November 25, 2011

Short Story: Love Changes a Heart by Ian D Hetri

(This story was submitted by Ian D. Hetri for some feedback and critique from readers. Please send your feedback/critique to Ian on Thank you all)
Name of story:

Love Changes a Heart


Number of words:




Ian D. Hetri




This short fictitious story sets out to define the change in the old life style of Zia people in Waria valley to the contemporary western culture. Zia bauno, the female character in the story characterizes Zia tribe in Papua New Guinea. Her husband, Zia emo characterizes the old ways of life of Zia people. The once dynamic culture of Zia has simply faded away with the introduction of western life style. In the story, the Western influence or life style is characterized by the stranger from far away land that arrived on the shores of Waria river one day and fell in love with Zia bauno, made love to her and changed her heart forever. The author intrinsically uses emotions and passion associated with sexual encounter between the two complete strangers to paint a vivid picture of how powerfully and aggressively the western ideologies has influenced the once dynamic Zia way of life.




The rays of the sun glistened through the mist as it rose between the mountains, covering the landscape with a wet cloak. Squinting her eyes against the shimmering light, Zia Bauno stood along the shores of Waria River in awe of the morning's beauty. The morning dew showered everything on the ground, with sparkling brilliance that nourished her soul and reaffirm her belief in her ancestral spirits.


She let her thought wonder into the vast dawning Waria skies, cuddling her well rounded breast being chilled and made erect by early morning mist and cold from the river. The river flowed lazily down, sweeping off loosely rooted plants as it made its way

to the sea. Once in a while groups of noisy white cockatoos flew by with their squeaky noise, waking up the sleeping souls in the land.


It was in this very spot that he had met her true love, Zia Emo, felt in love with him and married him. Back home, was a typical warm cool morning with gentle breeze blowing through the roof tops made of thatched sago leaves and children running here and there to get fire from their neighbors whilst mothers sweeping around the house, disturbing the sleepy men and boys in the Ibu (men's common house).


The village was in a sleepy mood. The rooster crowing at the break of dawn with their fancy "cock-a-doodle-doo" calls, making patterned series of clucks to attract hens to the source of food or to receive their portion of early morning love making.


Zia bauno quietly crept out of her sleeping mat made from the wide flat base of wild palm, making sure not to disturb the kids. She made it to the river with the dirty clay pots, wooden utensils and water containers made of a local fruit of cucurbitaceae family call Umo. Her husband sleeps in the Ibu. At least that gave her some time to reflect on her life in the morning when it was quiet and peaceful and easily set her into a meditative mood.


Today was a special day. She never knew that things were about to change forever according to the prophetic words of the zia philosophers. She made a quick mental calculation of the time she had left to enjoy her private time along the riverside and usual morning chores that starts with washing up of dirty cooking utensils and then herself.


Suddenly, her thoughts were disturbed by a thundering sound along the Northern Coast line. She shivered as her thoughts drew the picture of a monster springing up from the river and swallowing her, leaving her beloved husband and kids behind. The imagination was so vivid that she started having goose bumps. She dropped the last pot she was washing and quickly rummaged in her bilum and found the last betel nut (zang) and chewed to warm her up before taking into the chilling river.

She quickly made few dives, fetched the drinking water containers and went ashore. From the next bend of the river before it disappeared into the lush jungle, she saw a very strange thing. Something she had never seen before in her whole life, being born as a child, becoming young women and now a wife and mother. She rubbed her wet eyes, shook her silky long hair and took a hard look again across snaky body of the lazy flowing river. "What could this be" she asked herself. "It's an animal because it's moving" she muted to herself. "But how on earth can it be so huge" she asked herself again.


Her thoughts raced like wild African elephants being chased by the raging bush fire. To run or to stay. She was caught in her own battling thoughts and never had time to escape. The big animal emerged into perfect view and slowly eased itself to a stop few meters in front of her and opened its big mouth. A man of heavenly features stepped out. Total silence covered the land of zia. Even the obstreperous squeaky cockatoos observed the silence. The shy mud crabs refused to scavenge around for the river debris. The old ones have prophesied for this day. The wise and old once said;


"It is written in the minds and hearts of our great ancestors that one day, a daughter from this village will marry a stranger from far away land, who will be far most powerful than our spears and clubs, posses great wealth and who will change our way of lives forever"


The ground was still moist and wet from the morning dew. The stranger came out with eyes wide open, and face of a lonely lion in a deserted island. The lines on his face told of the years he had spent in the open seas and rough weather. He was pale and strained from longer months in the open sea, yet possessed tremendous strength that could tear a wild boar's jaws apart with a single blow from is heavy muscled arms. His shaggy moustache and a smile made of steel told of his lonely afternoons when he went to bed with a bottle of whisky.


The idyllic scenario and the endowed quintessential natural beauty of the land instantly mesmerized his attention. Then he looked across the distance and saw Zia bauno standing motionless and almost half naked. Her glistering erect nipples send his testosterone levels running riot. Shy as she turned away to hide her face, he notice her thin hips and round, fat bums that wetted his insatiable sexual appetite and ignited his yearning to have her moaning and groaning under his bulky body and hairy chest.


She was a woman of her own caliber. Strong, respectful, hardworking and full of wisdom. She was a trustful lover to her husband and a giver of life to her family and her tribe. But she lost her faith and identity that day. The day she made love to the stranger in the very spot where she first met Zia emo and felt in love with him. The stranger was tall, muscular, and handsome and had the perfect touch and kisses every woman in the land would dream to have. His seductive eyes glared at her well rounded breast with perfectly oiled black nipples and see-through grass skirts (Ano).


When her eyes kissed his eyes, her heart started to beat like the thumping hoofs of a running wild horse. A burning desire flared from his eyes. She could feel him tugging her alone without even touching her. For a moment, she taught, she was hypnotized. Her vision became blurry. She wanted to run and die but she couldn't. She thought about her man, the mighty warrior and philosopher, the "Zia Emo". The man that keeps her safe from the enemies tribes. The man that feeds her ever hungry stomach. The man that keeps her cup of love full. The stranger swept her mind off her one tru love, the Zia Emo. With his seductive craws, he ripped her heart open and tore the flesh into pieces and drained her Zia blood. He breathed every words of romance into life and gave her a new definition of love.


He reached for her and pulled her close. She was reluctant at first. "I am a god from the far away land. I came to give you all you have ever dream to have in your life time" the stranger said as he planted another deep kiss on her lips, tickling her skins as he tenderly eased his succulent pinkish tongue down her neck to her nipples igniting an ineffable raging fire in her. He was far too strong for her resistance. With every kiss and touch, he broke down all her walls of resistance until it crumbled to pieces. She couldn't hold back her yeaning to feel his bulky body over her, rocking her liking a hurricane with euphoric explosion of intimate desires and ecstatic throw-ups.


He enticed her appetite with foreign tastes. She wanted more. So she walked away from the nutritious food that made her ancestors, grew huge, powerful, full of wisdom and lived longer years. She loved the easy-to cook food that made her lazy. Seeing her almost naked, the stranger captured her attention with western clothes that smelt superior and felt fantastic on her body. And she forgot all about the Ano that covered her shame and gave her Zia Bauno identity. With tongues twisting like a rattle snake and lips curving to and fro like the crescent moon, he kissed her so softly and tenderly and injected his venomous charms into her soul and made her forget Zia language. Her only identity that save her from death and torture from enemy tribes and the identity that makes her unique.


She forgot the man that loved her dearly and the children she bore from her own womb. She forgot the place where her mum gave birth to and blood spilt and sieved through all Zia land. The change developed like faraway massed clouds in the northern sky, and like raging storm from the southern coast, swept her off Zia land and distorted her perception from Zia way of life. Today she is a modern Zia Bauno, full of elegance that bear no resemblance to her real Zia identity. She is a fake Zia, made of woven western materials and ideologies. She speaks like a westerner yet doesn't know what she means. She wears expensive jewelry and thinks she owns the best jewelry shop in the land without knowing that these are also fake goods just like her.




She has changed her identity, left her true lover and now she is a lost soul in her own land.


1 comment:

  1. A beautiful piece of art, a Parabolic resemblances of contemporary PNG.

    Happy Writing